Poetry is a naked woman, a naked man, and the distance between them.
― Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Poetry as Insurgent Art (via theladycheeky)
Please ignore the heteronormativity and enjoy the sentiment.
This morning, with her, having coffee.
She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope.
Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke and Bones (via ichig0-tea)
I will touch you with my mind. Touch you and touch and touch until you give me suddenly a smile, shyly obscene; I will touch you with my mind. Touch you, that is all, lightly and you utterly will become with infinite care the poem which I did not write.
E.E Cummings, Lady (via violentwavesofemotion)
Nothing one does in bed is immoral if it helps to perpetuate love.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez (via theladycheeky)
The Greeks understood the mysterious power of the hidden side of things. They bequeathed to us one of the most beautiful words in our language—the word ‘enthusiasm’—en theos—a god within. The grandeur of human actions is measured by the inspiration from which they spring. Happy is he who bears a god within, and who obeys it.