We sit and talk quietly,
with long lapses of silence,
and I am aware of the stream that has no language,
coursing beneath the quiet heaven of your eyes, which has no speech.
We sit and talk quietly,
with long lapses of silence,
and I am aware of the stream that has no language,
coursing beneath the quiet heaven of your eyes, which has no speech.
Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder…
There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.
(Source: frejabehalove)
(Source: Flickr / jeunefilledeuce, via chardonette)
Word on the Water Bookbarge
Regent’s Canal, London, England
(via literatureismyutopia)
(Source: olivaquotes, via damnedbythelight)
Photograph: Adam Gray/SWNS
A heart-warming story for Monday:
An aerial photograph has revealed that thousands of oak trees planted as a labour of love by a farmer as a tribute to his late wife have a heart-shaped meadow at their centre.
Winston Howes, 70, planted the oak saplings after his wife of 33 years, Janet, died suddenly 17 years ago.
Respect yourself enough to walk away from anything that no longer serves you, grows you or makes you happy.
By far