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"We are more often frightened than hurt; and we suffer more from imagination than from reality."
Seneca (via lazyyogi)
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βDo you have stars in your mouth? she asks and I laugh, sheβs never tasted winter like I have, midnights that linger for days. Yes, I tell her. Come see. Will there be breath? For a while, I whisper and blow on her hands, but you will sing and the aurora lights will walk across the ice. She lets me put my hands on her. Will I die? her hair like snow. Yes. I tell her. Every time.β
β Every Time, Jude Goodwin (via ha-n)
Love
(Source: fluttering-slips, via rhythmbeginning-deactivated2013)







