(Source: slutteringg)

Sonnet XVII

(Source: chickenshit)

You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil.

Great Expectations, Charles Dickens (via fuckyeahliteraryquotes) —

quote-book:

via lovelyasadream

wrists:

(by rocketrictic)

And it really, REALLY sucks.

(Source: cristania)

Holding hands may seem like an innocent gesture, but they show more than a simple interlocking of fingers. Your hands are one of the most essential parts of your body: you build with them, feed with them, hold with them, touch with them, fight with them; they are the tools of the human body. To take a hold of another’s hand is to break from living individually. It is to link yourself to another being, to momentarily entwine your life with another’s, to promise, for a moment, that you need not face the world alone. More simple, more aesthetically naive than other forms of affection, i.e kissing, hugging, sexing.., the act of holding hands is often trivialized in its true implications. As the Beatles once said ”all I want to do is hold your hand.”

(Source: ellie-bartowski)