"April is the cruelest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain."
T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land (via hellanne)

(via m00ncrisisp0wer)

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"Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence."
the little prince (via ugh)

(Source: psych-facts, via bl-y)

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