ufukorada:

Aldo Balding

ufukorada:

Aldo Balding

(Reblogged from catalina72)
My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery—always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? Whats this passion for? You, who love questions, answer me that. No—nobody can.
Virginia Woolf in a letter to Ethel Smyth (via mjalt)
(Reblogged from mjalt)
We are very good at preparing to live, but not very good at living. We know how to sacrifice ten years for a diploma, and we are willing to work very hard to get a job, a car, a house, and so on. But we have difficulty remembering that we are alive in the present moment, the only moment there is for us to be alive.
Thich Nhat Hanh (via feellng)
(Reblogged from feellng)
My wish for you is that you continue. Continue to be who and how you are, to astonish a mean world with your acts of kindness. Continue to allow humor to lighten the burden of your tender heart.
Maya Angelou  (via herkindoftea)

(Source: psych-facts)

(Reblogged from my-backwards-walk)
Our imagination flies - we are its shadow on the earth.
Vladimir Nabokov (via meditationsinwonderland)

(Source: artchipel)

(Reblogged from bridgettelizabeth)
We find fault with the world, while the faults lie in our own selves.

Al-Shafi‘i

(via purplebuddhaproject)

(Reblogged from purplebuddhaproject)
(Reblogged from art42)

(Source: maorisakai)

(Reblogged from theoneirictemple)
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours  (via petrichour)

(Source: liquidnight)

(Reblogged from aquarianmermaid)
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (via feellng)
(Reblogged from feellng)