For Indigo Children

This is a place for the gems I discover while I'm tumbling. For my poetry and personal writing, go to: WrittenByBeck.tumblr.com

vayena:

my aesthetic is the kid on the playground who tells all the other kids that ring around the rosie is about the black plague

(via morositree)

g-houst:

im-just-a-lie:

busket:

Ghost Girl (by Kevin Francis Gray)

Via

man but this photoset ignores some of my favorite things about this piece

like this

and this

it gives it more of a story i think

Every time I see this I must reblog!!

Not something I would usually reblog, but it’s so beautiful.

(Source: from89, via themadness-vase)

eirstegalkin:

in a healthy, close relationship of any kind, when something upsets you, you need to bring it up. as soon as possible, even. cultivate an environment in which you both can talk about things that upset you, with the utmost attention to everyone’s feelings. it’s a really simple thing to do but it’s a thing i’ve been working on for a while and i’m getting actual nice things happening as a result

(via dezilife)

It’s a terrible thing, I think, in life to wait until you’re ready. I have this feeling now that actually no one is ever ready to do anything. There is almost no such thing as ready. There is only now. And you may as well do it now. Generally speaking, now is as good a time as any.

—Hugh Laurie (via larmoyante)

(via thedefinitionofbeauty)

moshingice:

you ever wanna fuck the living shit outta somebody but also cook for them and make sure they’re emotionally stable?

(via shejustknew)

What a terrible thing it is to wound someone you really care for and to do it so unconsciously.

—Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via quotes-shape-us)

(via wtftony)

However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.

—Henry David Thoreau, Walden (via observando)

(via createyourowninfinity)