“What if you slept? And what if in your sleep, you dreamed? And what if in your dream, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if, when you woke, you had the flower in your hand? Ah! What then?”—Samuel Taylor Coleridge (via megannjanel) (via quote-book)
“She didn’t giggle or blush when she saw him. She didn’t write his name all over pieces of paper. She simply lived with his face in her heart all the time. A kind of sweet, hurtful ache.”—(via ambivalently)
Dragons, angels, gnomes, creatures beneath the earth that make words with hammers, a shooting star that shoots back, rain falling from the ground to the sky, bars that refuse to serve dwarfs or wanderers, a fountain that makes you young (and lonely) while those around you grow old, saplings that know everything, a sea made of tears from every lover who never loved, a silver boat with a sail made of pages from all the books that were never written.
All my dreams are beautiful. But none as beautiful as you. You are the reason I return here each morning.