I want to write poems on your skin with my lips.
― Eleven word story  (via profumoimpresso)

(Fonte: c0caine--kiss3s)

The death of dogma is the birth of morality.
― Kant (via observando)
Come fai a mancarmi se non abbiamo nemmeno ricordi?
Quando due hanno dormito insieme è un’altra cosa, ci si ritrova al mattino a riaffiorare entrambi dallo stesso sonno, si è pari.
― Italo Calvino, Racconti. (via anninamour)
Each of us needs something of an island in his life—if not an actual island, at least some place, or space in time, in which to be himself, free to cultivate his differences from others.
John Keats, Of Time and an Island (via bookmania)

lovelybluepony:

mypeterpancomplex:

Keats: I had such a dream last night. I was floating above the trees with my lips connected to those of a beautiful figure for what seemed like an age. Flowery treetops sprang up beneath us and we rested on them with the lightness of a cloud.
Fanny:

No - my sweet Fanny - I am wrong. I do not want you to be unhappy - and yet I do, I must while there is so sweet a Beauty - my loveliest my darling! Good bye! I kiss you - O the torments!
― John Keats (in one of his two letters in May of 1820 to Fanny Brawne) (via lostinlabyrinths) (via fuckyeahjohnkeats, lostinlabyrinthss-deactivated20)