The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank.The lover loved and went.
And what the poets said in rhyme, the young translated into practise.Girls were roses, and their seasons were short as the flowers.
— Virgina Woolf, Orlando (via youlooklikesomethingblooming)
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The only girl I’ve ever loved was born with roses in her eyes.
— “Holland, 1945” by Neutral Milk Hotel (via sadsapling)
There are 7 billion people on this planet who I have not met,
and 195 countries I have not visited.
Yet I am stuck in this insignificant town,
Being pressured into making decisions about my future,
When I barely even know who I am
— Unknown (via sophie-amelie)
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you.
— Pablo Neruda (via stillbirthed)
bees, my
skin smells
of sun, the
insides of
roses. I want
to eat that
light. Every
thing that
grows does.
— Lyn Lifshin, “Honeysuckle” (via petrichour)
