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See Post #joy #iron and wine #ghost on ghost #art #good music #AND A MUSIC VIDEO #It's as loud as a thunderclap but you hear it too But you're bringin' me joy. #It's a heartfelt silly sort of bumbling tune but you're bringin' me joy.
See Post #neutral milk hotel #in the aeroplane over the sea #let us lay in the sun #and count every beautiful thing we can see #well you're a given #so we'll start from one. #sunshine appreciation club
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.
pronunciation | ‘red-a-“man-sE
420 playsNot Crying on Sundays
Cause you are the one I could never be done with
I want you tonight and for the rest of my life
0 playsDo You Ever Dream In Songs of the skies and seas?
E. C. | December 2012
This is stuck up on my bedroom wall.
And will be forever.
I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this - But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it.Vita Sackville-West, from a letter to Virginia Woolf dated 21 January 1926 (via violentwavesofemotion)
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)Soaked In Soul.