The poet’s job is to put into words those feelings we all have that are so deep, so important, and yet so difficult to name, to tell the truth in such a beautiful way, that people cannot live without it.

— Jane Kenyon

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.

—

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets (via theunquotables)

<3

Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone.

— Pablo Picasso (via theunquotables)

Love what you have and you’ll have more love.

— Regina Spektor, Firewood (via theunquotables)

Depression is like a bruise that never goes away. A bruise in your mind. You just got to be careful not to touch it where it hurts. It’s always there, though.

— Jeffrey Eugenides (via humansoulremapped)

(Source: infinitives, via luminesc)