“Note to self: every time you were convinced you couldn’t go on, you did.”
— (107/365)
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We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.
Why can’t men admire and appreciate the beauty of the female body without trying to claim it as their own? We don’t do that to works of art in a museum, so we’re basically saying those pigments on canvas or carved pieces of stone are more valuable and deserving of our respect than living, breathing human beings.
(via nihil—morari)
She is Art. What the fuck do you expect from her, other than confusion, beauty and goddamn soul?
(via evelyncazares)
I could write novels about her eyes alone. They had so many beautiful and painful things to say.
hella-james (via wnq-writers)
voiceofnature