“The awful thing is that beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and the devil are fighting there and the battlefield is the heart of man. But a man always talks of his own ache.”—Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (via anotherword) (via magicinmyeyes)
“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,”—Lord Byron (via whimsywonder)
I am humbled in this city, There seems to be an endless sea of people like us, Wakeful dreamers, I pass them on the sunlit streets, In our rooms filled with laughter, We make hope from every small disaster.