"I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment—we are all defined by something we can’t change."

Simon Van Booy, The Illusion of Separateness (via aestheticintrovert)

(Source: hiddenshores, via asdfghjklerina)

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close."

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets (via observando)