1. (Source: theskankbank, via heyjohnlennon)

  2. (Source: thepursuitaesthetic, via heyjohnlennon)

  3. Hunter S. Thompson

    Hunter S. Thompson

    (Source: mattybing1025, via arabia-mountain)

  4. Oh, GATSBY

    Oh, GATSBY

    (Source: restarks, via nofairytails)

  5. (Source: diegomeister, via arabia-mountain)

  6. Pretty much.

    Pretty much.

    (Source: dethredmoon, via tyleroakley)

  7. (Source: mols)

  8. (Source: tripoddiaries, via alecjohnlucas)

  9. (via visual-poetry)

  11. i wish i could trade my heart for another liver.

    then i could drink more and care less.
  12. casual Saturday.

    casual Saturday.

  13. (via wethefreeee)

  14. well my name’s not alice but i know how she felt when her world started turning into something else

  15. Dreams deferred are victims of evolution.

    Dear, there is beauty in the breakdown.

    I am not art, but the immortalization of my thoughts is crystallized into the foreign boundaries of a darkened page of Oak. My ideas fall like the fronds of the Weeping Willow and where they touch the sinuous points of my limpid imagination there is a whirring sound of a violent idea put to death. There is no beauty in the death of a much loved story but the droplets of thoughtful dew slide across the surface of my mind and there they form the waterfall I visit to dream.

    My dreams are blackened landscapes of white art. A cacophony of picture images falling through the spaces of my being where they leave black holes of knowledge.

    The knowledge I possess about the impossibility of my dreams leads me to believe for the first time that ignorance really may be bliss. I refuse to delay my dreams until they are nothing but the morning breath that you can see when it’s too cold to support the dreams of the living.

    Dreams deferred are victims of evolution.

About

some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry rarely, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I'm one of them.

My name is Mary, welcome to my blog.

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