November 2011
Melancholy were the sounds on a winter’s night.
– Virginia Woolf (via silkseas)
The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to.
– Carl Sandburg (via waitingforteaagain)
Myth is the hidden part of every story, the buried part, the region that is...
– Italo Calvino (via corona-borealis)
There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion.
– Edgar Allan Poe (via misswallflower)