“He was winter to her. Whenever she thought of their relationship everything was framed in winter— hot drinks, heavy sweaters, their breaths white together on the frigid air when they took their walks. They had been together in the summer too, but he wasn’t summer to her. He was always winter. It made her think we assign people— lovers especially— seasons in our minds.”—Jonathan Carroll (via browndresswithwhitedots)
“We need women who are so strong they can be gentle, so educated they can be humble, so fierce they can be compassionate, so passionate they can be rational, and so disciplined they can be free.”—Kavita Ramdas, in her commencement speech to Mount Holyoke graduates (via weissewiese)
“But that’s the wonderful thing about foreign travel, suddenly you are five years old again. You can’t read anything, you have only the most basic sense of how things work, you can’t even reliably cross the street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.”—Bill Bryson, Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe (via universesbetweenus)
“Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn’t have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn’t have to be a walk during which you’ll have multiple life epiphanies and discover meanings no other brain ever managed to encounter. Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but “steal” some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.”—Albert Camus, Notebooks, 1951-1959 (via thatkindofwoman)
“Listen — I want to run all my life, screaming at the top of my lungs. Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don’t stop to think, don’t interrupt the scream, exhale, release life’s rapture. Everything is blooming. Everything is flying. Everything is screaming, choking on its screams. Laughter. Running. Let-down hair. That is all there is to life.”—Vladimir Nabokov (via masoeuretmoi)
- I have been dedicated to finding the beauty of life pulse all around me; seeking out the light no matter the circumstance. Trying to complain less.
- I used to like to stay busy because i thought it meant my life was full. They are not the equivalent of one another. I am overwhelmed… grateful, but overwhelmed.
- I will have to learn to keep growing further from you and closer to myself. I am doing ok without you, though it still aches every once in awhile.
- Everything is in flux. Surrender. Trust. Surrender. This sadness and stress is going to move on and come back and the happiness will stay only for a little, too. That is how every emotion flows. Notice it and let it be.
- Action begets action.
- Whether you know it or not, you have an impact on people. You get to choose what that looks like, good or bad. You may not even realize the impact you’ve had until awhile later, or you may never know. But it doesn’t really matter. This world is big and we are all strung together in strange, invisible ways.
- You have to just keep going. Keep living through these awkward, new seasons of your life.
Chilly autumn nights in the Midwest. Wrapped in blankets with my blinds open, as to better see the stars. Accompanied by Gregory, my old friend. Gregory Alan Isakov is just one of those people who, at some point in time, came across the ability to pull heartstrings and did so. Something about his sound is more than simply music. He is able to capture the songs of the mountains, and the pine trees, and the Auroras. He is magic.
Here’s to you, and to me, and to the future blissful autumn nights ahead of us both.
“The Future is, of all things, the thing least like eternity. It is the most temporal part of time — for the Past is frozen and no longer flows, and the Present is all lit up with eternal rays.”—C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (via meggielynne)