Rhapsody

on a theme of life

And you wonder why I scoff at the idea of rachmaninoff in Vienna

And you wonder why I scoff at the idea of rachmaninoff in Vienna

(Source: danielodowd)

aseaofquotes:

Anton DiSclafani, The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls

aseaofquotes:

Anton DiSclafani, The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls

I hate those days where being in love feels like the worse thing that is happening to you. Where you’re taken to heights you never knew existed only to be dropped like a ton at the first opportunity. I hate those days where you physically walk around with pains in your chest and tears involuntarily slide down your cheeks. I hate those days where my questions and doubts resurface. I hate those days where I know there are other people who’d follow me anywhere even when they haven’t promised to. I hate those days which make me stock if what I have or rather what I don’t.But most of all I hate those days where slowly my fears were being laid to rest, but with a single comment or lack thereof they become more valid than before.

I hate those days where being in love feels like the worse thing that is happening to you. Where you’re taken to heights you never knew existed only to be dropped like a ton at the first opportunity. I hate those days where you physically walk around with pains in your chest and tears involuntarily slide down your cheeks. I hate those days where my questions and doubts resurface. I hate those days where I know there are other people who’d follow me anywhere even when they haven’t promised to. I hate those days which make me stock if what I have or rather what I don’t.

But most of all I hate those days where slowly my fears were being laid to rest, but with a single comment or lack thereof they become more valid than before.

(Source: photographyandpictures)

The person best fit to love you is not the one who makes your heart beat the fastest but the one who says your name the loudest, the one who is not embarrassed
of the watermarks, the bruises, or the acne.
It’s not the one who spills out your name like confetti but the one who sets it aflame like a firework, not the one who plays
your body like piano keys but the one who can make music out of your lips.
He is the one who can fall asleep in the crevice of your collarbone without moving your hand anywhere else except your pillow,
who thinks your skin is softer than sky and who never makes empty
promises, only ones spilling out over the surface of glass,
never makes you clean up the mess.
The person best fit to love you is not the one who wants to shape you, fix you, or conquer you but the one who
says your soul is like a story they read once when they were a child and they never forgot it.
The one you are meant to fall in love with will be the strongest connection, the biggest thought in your brain, and the veins in your wrist -
not that you can’t live without them, but you would just prefer not to.
The person you are meant to fall in love with is not an alarm clock set to six o’clock or a ticking time bomb but a patient mother nursing a sick child, a melody played together with harmony or
the beautiful rhythm of movement that only exists between you and only you.
The person best fit to love you is not the one who wants to change you
but thinks that your mouth is the biggest
pulsing temptation that they have ever come across,
they will love your elusiveness, I promise you, they won’t want to dull the razor blades under your skin or even take it away from you, they will sharpen it so it will cut through ice,
it will cut through metal, I promise you, the person best fit to love you will not change the colour of your skin or make falling in love
all too familiar.
The person best fit to love you is not a lucky penny on the sidewalk, that’s not rare enough,
they are a four-leaf clover hidden beneath the tundra, they are about as likely as being attacked
by a great white while swimming in Lake Ontario.
The person best fit to love you will play the music of your love without the thick concealer of auto tune, their voice
will be a song you will never want to stop singing.
The person best fit to love you is not the extra shot of gin or the condom in the alleyway.
The person best fit to love you is a shard of glass, I promise you.
They might cut you open but reflecting upon the light,
god, they are so stunning to look at.
A Japanese legend says that if you can’t sleep at night it’s because you’re awake in someone else’s dream.

(via conflictingheart)

I hope it’s because I’m in yours.

I find that when I come out of the library I’m in what I call the library bliss of being totally taken away from the distractions of life.

Tracy Chevalier (via excessivebookshelf)

I can’t believe that after all this time, that’s all you can say. When you know need more, when I’m telling you I need more. 

I can’t believe that after all this time, that’s all you can say. When you know need more, when I’m telling you I need more. 

(Source: airows)

Her dreams are talking with old years.

W. B. Yeats, from “Mosada” (via litverve)

By making time to read, like making time to love, we expand our time for living.

If we had to think of love in terms of our busy schedule, who’d risk it? Who’s got time to fall in love? But have you ever seen someone in love not finding time for it?

I’ve never had time to read, but nothing’s ever stopped me from finishing a novel I loved.

Reading isn’t about managing your social life better; it’s a way of being, like being in love.

The Rights of the Reader by Daniel Pennac (translated by Sarah Adams). But though Pennac is angry, and gets off a pretty good metaphor comparing modern books to hormone-fed chickens, in the end it’s all in service of an embarrassingly pure admiration for what books are, and what they can be. A must-read if you’re in the business of books, I think. (3/3)

(Source: bookavore)

2013yearoflettering:

Day 177: It is not so much how busy you are, but why you are busy. The bee is praised. The mosquito is swatted. -Mary O’Connor

2013yearoflettering:

Day 177: It is not so much how busy you are, but why you are busy. The bee is praised. The mosquito is swatted. -Mary O’Connor