Rolling in the deep.

Alexandra but Allie. Cela passera aussi.

Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

(Source:, via quixotic-hobbit)

He glanced back at the wall. How like a mirror, too, her face. Impossible; for how many people did you know who reflected your own light to you? People were more often—he searched for a simile, found one in his work—torches, blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other people’s faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your own innermost trembling thought?


i dont know whats emptier, my bank account or my love life

(via hushedlustx0)

Paul Tournier (via hejk)

(Source: onlinecounsellingcollege, via stonypathsstrongshoes)

Nothing makes us as lonely as our secrets.
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