"I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful."

John Green


Sometimes I think people
are like books
tiny worlds
bursting at the seams
protected only
by a delicate cover.

You spend your life
hoping to find
"the one"
whatever that means.

But then you find
it’s different
and it’s difficult to read
at first
but you keep reading
you read and you read
and you read and you read
the book is the most
delightful combination
of contrasting characters
alive and
funny and
brave and
strong and
romantic and
loving and

You crave it the moment
you put it down
the book consumes you and
you consume it and
that’s when you
you’ve never been more in love
in your life.

(Source: ilvadesoi)

I want you to come home from work tired and annoyed so that I can throw my arms around you and kiss your face everywhere again and again until you start laughing. We’ll collapse on the couch and watch something rubbish on television but that won’t matter. I want you to convince me to play Call of Duty with you, and then I’ll scream at the television when we lose, and you’ll laugh and tell me it’s okay. We’ll end up switching it off because I’m getting too stressed out, and you’ll kiss my nose and laugh at how silly I am. Then at night we’ll get into bed and I’ll hold your hand, fingers interlocked, and we’ll tell each other about our day, legs rubbing against each other playfully. You can put your head on my lap and I’ll play with your hair and mess it up completely, just how I like it, then I’ll reach down to nibble at your nose and further down to press my lips into yours. We’ll switch the light off and try to sleep, but if you can’t, we’ll put our coats on and go for a moonlit walk, my head resting on your shoulder. And you can tell me about everything. I’ll solve all your problems, I’ll make it all better. I’ll tell you silly stories and dreadful jokes and make you laugh so hard - we’ll be alone in the park in the middle of the night, laughing, not a care in the world, and it’ll be our world. When we get too tired, we’ll race back home. We’ll get in, noses red, fingers freezing, and we’ll collapse into bed in each other’s arms, not waking up until the morning, when we sleepily open our eyes, and smile, because we have another day together.

I love you

He was the blue, shimmering moon
eclipsing her fiery, headstrong light.
She buried herself in his strength
her breath hot against his neck
as she built up the courage
to whisper
“I love you”.

He was the dark, strong comma
against her pale, elegant phrase.
She trembled as his gentle hands
glided across her, like leaves
dancing in the wind.

His eyes were whirlpools of desire
locked with hers in a gaze
so powerful
she couldn’t break it
and neither could he.

He was an intense wave
that lifted her up
and took her breath away.
Her heart was impatient, erratic
and waiting.

He wondered how to tell her
that she ignited his bones,
his heart,
his mind,
his soul.
He could do anything.

So he pulled her closer
face to face
foreheads pressed
lightly against each other.
Heart to heart,
mind to mind,
soul to soul,
he ran his fingers through her hair
as he whispered
“I love you”.

(Source: ilvadesoi)

I have had such a perfect birthday. My friends and family and John Green are so awesome. Going to sleep now, goodnight everybody!

"He is thinking about asymmetry. This is a world, he is thinking, where you can lie in bed, listening to a song as you dream about someone you love, and your feelings and the music will resonate so powerfully and completely that it seems impossible that the beloved, whoever and wherever he or she might be, should not know, should not pick up this signal as it pulsates from your heart, as if you and the music and the love and the whole universe have merged into one force that can be chanelled out into the darkness to bring them this message. But, in actuality, not only will he or she not know, there is nothing to stop that other person from lying on his or her bed at the exact moment listening to the exact same song and thinking about someone else entirely—from aiming those identical feelings in some completely opposite direction, at some totally other person, who may in turn be lying in the dark thinking of another person still, a fourth, who is thinking of a fifth, and so on, and so on, so that rather than a universe of neatly reciprocating pairs, love and love-returned fluttering through space nicely and symmetrically like so many pairs of butterfly wings, instead we get chains of yearning, which sprawl and meander and culminate in an infinite number of dead ends."

Paul Murray

"When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground, it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or when a picture falls off the wall, it makes a noise. But as for your heart, when that breaks, it’s completely silent. You would think that for something so important, it would make the loudest noise in the whole world, or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a symbol or the ringing of a bell. But it’s silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain."

Cecelia Ahern, If You Could See Me Now

"I crave the stain
Of tears, the aftermark
Of almost too much love"

Robert Frost

(Source: ilvadesoi)

…the course of true love is always bumpy

The quote below just reminds me of the Rhys Davies competition now.

"Yes of course, I wrote it!"
"Exactly, it’s - wait what? You wrote it?"
"Right… so… you say… you wrote this line? This is your line from your play?"

Everyone laughed… and yes maybe I was a little too enthusiastic about it, but my closing speech was made even more perfect by her stupid slip up. “It seems that the two lines are so similar that the prosecution witness doesn’t even know the difference between the two, between her own work and the work of Shakespeare.” BOOM. Aw, such good memories, I enjoyed that competition so much. Definitely want to do it again next year :}

I can’t even comprehend how well that image below has just summed up my love-life. In other words, absolutely hopeless ~

Happiness doesn’t lie in conspicuous consumption and the relentless amassing of useless crap. Happiness lies in the person sitting beside you and your ability to talk to them. Happiness is clear-headed human interaction and empathy. Happiness is home. And home is not a house; home is a mythological conceit. It is a state of mind. A place of communion and unconditional love. It is where, when you cross its threshold, you finally feel at peace. - Unknown