“That sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts, how did you get it? Did you and your friends take it from my vault?”
how quickly do things come and go
to be one moment in your arms
and the next begging you not to go
to feel your embrace, your kiss
and then your wrath.
every black crayon should be named void of existential anguish black
50 shades of moral ambiguity gray
(Source: princess-manders)
(Source: askboggle)
You can’t fix the fact that I love you.
#scandal #somanyfeels
Helena Bonham Carter behind the scenes at Harper’s Bazaar.
Twit~Twoo!!!
I was so nervous talking to a man that I have admired for twelve years of my life. The man who let me know as a child that miserable things happen and that’s perfectly normal. The same man who helped me overcome my fear of reading after being screamed at by my teacher that I would never be able to read anything my grade level, only to have a college level reading skill by the end of sixth grade. My motivation to write and keep doing whatever I want because no matter who tries to bring me down, I know that I can overcome it just like I did those years ago.
I blushed and stuttered, barely getting out a ‘this may sound dorky, but thank you for everything you’ve done for me’. I hadn’t told him the tragedies that had gone on in my life in specifics. I thanked him for giving me a chance when so many adults did not and how I found it ironic that I still love a series about miserable children when I practically went through the same thing. And even though I’ve heard ‘I’m sorry’ so many times about every death, every terrible thing that has happened, I have never heard one so sincere.
Here I was beating myself up about failing to convey myself in front of this wonderful man. How I missed my chance. Putting my things away, I grabbed my book and peeked inside to see this. And I began to cry.
This is a man who I have never met before. A man I have only dreamt of meeting since I was very small. But yet in one small sentence he has managed to move me entirely. A sentence that has needed to be said for a long time now.
‘To Bridget, who has suffered enough.’
“What do you feel?”
“Nothing.”
i’m still crying, and i imagine i will be for a while longer. but i have red wine and earl grey, and the shortest email to confirm that no love is ever wasted, and true love never really dies. it may change forms, but it never, ever dies. and there is rain. and i guess, for now, that is enough.
and as though the universe could feel my tears and taste my red wine, it started pouring as “Heart and Soul” filled the air.
I love, because my love is not dependent on the object of love. My love is dependent on my state of being. So whether the other person changes, becomes different, friend turns into a foe, does not matter, because my love was never dependent on the other person. My love is my state of being. I simply love.
Osho (via loveyourchaos)
(Source: foundinspirationmovingforward)
Helena Bonham Carter - Live From Baghdad photocall
There’s nothing in the world that loves you
more than the space you already take up.
There’s nothing in the world that won’t
forget you faster than you forgot
the last person that stepped out from your life.
When the cat reaches up
one needled paw to drag down a book
from your desk, then another,
that’s not love—that’s dominance.
When you reach up your hand and try to wheedle
someone else’s to hold it, that’s love
dominating you. There’s no word for loving more
than you should, just the feeling of excess,
as if your tongue burst in a rash of red sequins,
as if everyone can see your stutter in the air,
staccato love you, love you, and nothing in the world
standing in that space to receive it.
“Love Poem for What It Is,” Rebecca Hazelton (via commovente)
