Pine Cone Dust


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THIS is my other blog.

“Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-gumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
Do a loony-goony dance
'Cross the kitchen floor,
Put something silly in the world
That ain't been there before.” ― Shel Silverstein

This is stuff I want, if you know where I could buy or get any of it, please message me, I'd appreciate it :)

on this blog i've got:
Black And White images
Animal images
Blood and Such
images with Words
Quotes
Drawings
Paintings
Clothes
Houses
Scenery
Tattoos
People
Space
Other

These are my favorite pictures

The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you had thought special and particular to you. And now, here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.
Alan Bennett, The History Boys: The Film (via skeletales)

(via rabbits-foot)

Rock and roll is fun but if you ever hear someone say you are huge, look at the moon, look at the stars, look at the sun, look at the ocean and the desert and the mountains and the sky, say I am just a speck of dust inside a giant’s eye.
Kimya Dawson  (via lunanaut)

(via lunanaut)

Be happy for no reason, like a child. If you are happy for a reason, you’re in trouble, because that reason can be taken from you.
Deepak Chopra  (via s-e-e-k)

(Source: nirvikalpa, via creatiekatie)

I get it now. I get it. The things you hope for the most are the things that destroy you in the end.
John Green and David Levithan, Will Grayson, Will Grayson  (via alfsaga)

(Source: anditslove, via in-incognito)

I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for, and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (via drydenlane)

(via camelliablossom)

The air is a beautiful princess without bones.
Takiguchi Shuzo, “Documents d’oiseaux” (via thesoviette)

(via rabbits-foot)

Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions.
Susan Cain, Quiet (via revelationsong)

(Source: accountedfor, via fluorescentwolf)

You fit the world in your mouth and I’m jealous of all the cobweb space. I scour the neighborhood picking up your lost hairpins, smell last night in your hair. It’s a good thing, you never forgetting my waist. Maybe I’m in love or maybe I’m not in love or maybe I’ve tasted love before and haven’t brushed my teeth in a while, but you look so good in that dress I want to bake you a pie. In one of these sentences I say something important. This is what I’m going to do: touch your hips with my tongue, build you a nest out of pillowcases. We are always falling into the softness of photosynthesis. The most important part of last night is making it happen again. I was never good at math but I’m adding up the miles to your hips. Come over, I want to sober up inside you.
 Gregory Sherl  (via niveous)

(Source: clavicola, via vvolare)

We are made out of stars, you and I.
Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts  (via morfeodespierto)

(Source: writingaces, via in-incognito)

Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
Sylvia Plath’s mother (via allmymetaphors)
You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.
Ernest Hemingway (A Moveable Feast)

(Source: seabois, via allmymetaphors)

Why don’t you tell me that ‘if the girl had been worth having, she’d have waited for you’? No, sir, the girl really worth having won’t wait for anybody.
F. Scott Fitzgerald (via saddest-summer)

(via the-giantess)

People, I have discovered, are layers and layers of secrets. You believe you know them, that you understand them, but their motives are always hidden from you, buried in their own hearts. You will never know them, but sometimes you decide to trust them.
Veronica Roth, Insurgent (via larmoyante)

(via vvolare)

Everything she said was like a secret voice speaking straight out of my own bones.
Sylvia Plath (via yourbrainmyappetizer)

(Source: lavandula, via yourbrainmyappetizer)

When people walk away from you, let them go. You shouldn’t have to talk them into staying with you, loving you, calling you, caring about you, and coming to see you, because if they really cared about you in the first place; they would not be going anywhere.
Unknown (via cavum)

(via enkephalins)

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