“
We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves. 
I wish for all this to be marked on by body when I am dead. I believe in such cartography - to be marked by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned or monogamous in our taste or experience.
”
~ Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient
I want to love you wildly. I don’t want words, but inarticulate cries, meaningless, from the bottom of my most primitive being, that flow from my belly like honey. A piercing joy, that leaves me empty, conquered, silenced.
~ Anaïs Nin
It takes time to live. Like any work of art, life needs to be thought about.
Albert Camus 

(Source: rasputinmaxim)

 

Touch comes before sight, before speech. It is the first language and the last, and it always tells the truth.
~ Margaret Atwood
Art - Sveta Dorosheva
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for – and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool – for love – for your dreams – for the adventure of being alive.
Oriah Mountain Dreamer (via arzitekt)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)