A Witch is born out of the true hungers of her time. I am a child of the poisonous wind that copulated with the river on an oil-slick, garbage infested midnight. I turn about on my own parentage. I inoculate against those very biles that brought me to light. I am a serum born of venoms. I am the antibody of all time.
Long After Midnight, Ray Bradbury   (via owls-love-tea)

(Source: talisman, via lyannastarkling)

Friday with 5,786 notes / reblog
Do not try to be pretty. You weren’t meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don’t let anyone ever simplify you to just “pretty.”
Things I Wish My Mother Had Taught Me | d.a.s (via floranymph)

(via re-svnc)

lilypolkadot:

I can’t wait to see this with Rachel!!!my loooove
Friday with 24,565 notes / reblog
Years disintegrate into months, months into days, days into hours, minutes into seconds, seconds run past. You won’t catch them. Everything runs past. Flies away. Who am I? I am a certain number of seconds - that have run past. The result: nothing. Nothing.
Witold Gombrowicz, Cosmos (via stxxz)

(via stxxz)

untrustyou:

Joe Curtin 

Claude Monet’s “Misty Morning on the Seine in Blue.”
Friday with 28,052 notes / reblog
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