Latest Tweets:

(Source: sexual-passion, via man-of-prose)

"What I mean is, I’m tired
of everything gorgeous.
Of the burden of burning.
Of wondering when. What I mean is,
on some nights I miss you so much
that I never want to see you again."

Ali Shapiro (via petghost)

(Source: unbloom, via man-of-prose)

"I have nothing now but praise for my life. I’m not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can’t stop them. They leave me and I love them more…What I dread is the isolation. … There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready."

Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are (via man-of-prose)

"Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts."

Franz Kafka (via hsaptus)

(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via man-of-prose)

*76

"His chin dominated the lines of pain around his mouth, forcing them up into his forehead and the corner of his eyes, like fear that cannot be shown in public.
‘Come and sit on my lap close to me,’ he said softly, ‘and let me see about your lovely mouth.’
She came over and sat there and while the dripping slowed down outside—drip—driip, she laid her lips to the beautiful cold image she had created.
Presently she kissed him several times in the mouth,her face getting big as it came up to him; he had never seen anything so dazzling as the quality of her skin,"

Tender Is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald (via man-of-prose)

man-of-prose:

Vincent Van Gogh. “Green Wheat Fields, Auvers,” 1890 Oil on canvas. one of his last works, recently unveiled. Source 

man-of-prose:

Vincent Van Gogh. “Green Wheat Fields, Auvers,” 1890 Oil on canvas. one of his last works, recently unveiled. Source 

"To study philosophy is nothing but to prepare one’s self to die."

Cicero (via man-of-prose)

*79

(Source: man-of-prose)

"It is possible that I have explored more terrible and more questionable worlds of thought than anyone else, but simply because it is in my nature to love the silent backwater."

Friedrich Nietzsche, from Selected Letters (via nihilus3247)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via man-of-prose)