Three o’clock in the morning. The soft April night is looking at my windows and caressingly winking at me with its stars. I can’t sleep, I am so happy.
Anton Chekhov, About Love and Other Stories (via larmoyante)
I think of you so often you have no idea.
James Joyce, Ulysses (via versteur)
(Source: observando, via agreattperhaps)
I’m a word freak. I like words. I’ve always compared writing to music. That’s the way I feel about good paragraphs. When it really works, it’s like music.
Hunter S. Thompson (via raulrants)