I wish nothing more than to wake up to your slumbering body take hold to mine.
I wish I was a little more delicate.
You will always be my always.– David Levithan (via litvanilla)
Time flows in strange ways on Sundays, and sights become mysteriously distorted.– Haruki Murakami - 1Q84 (via murakamistuff)
To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power.– Maya Angelou (via commovente)