Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.
(via gguttenfelder)
(Source: lastdaysofmagic, via gguttenfelder-deactivated201302)
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In fact, my soul and yours are the same. You appear in me, I appear in you. We hide in each other.
Rumi (via 33113)
(Source: fuckyeahrumi, via ronenreblogs)
What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe?
Jacques Lacan (via artimid)
(Source: larmoyante, via ronenreblogs)
In the end, we’ll all become stories.
Margaret Atwood (via paperlover)
(Source: sketchofthepast, via teachingliteracy)
(Source: weheartit.com, via icanrelateto)
I used to read constantly. I was always looking for an escape, for my next adventure. I’d finish a book and I’d make a mad dash for the bookstore. I couldn’t stand the time in between books. Now, it’s hard to finish a book. I’ve found that no fantasy or alternate reality can even come close to comparing to the reality I now live. While reading, I feel a sort of anxiousness to get back to “real life”.
