within a frame

If the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall, I think we'd see the beauty then and stand staring in awe.

“I believe that if we surround ourselves with that which we find beautiful, then the air in our homes will humm with our unique magic, a magic that is smelt by visitors and which is ours alone. How interesting the different feelings we get on entering the homes of others. How warm or cold or unnerving or welcoming they can feel. Some folks can sofa-hop happily, but not I. I must have my ephemera and imagery about me. In stretching yourself out as far as your walls, you are making a place which affirms your vision whenever you sit in it.”

Artist/illustrator Rima Staines 

“I hate to think of you waiting. I know that you have been waiting for me all your life, always uncertain of how long this patch of waiting would be.”

– Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler’s Wife

I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you.

- Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler’s Wife

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.

- Jane Austen, Persuasion 

“I am sorry for filling you with beer and bad thoughts and then asking you why you shook. I am sorry for pinching you, for hitting you, for bruising the thin-skinned parts of you. I am sorry for the names I called you when we were fighting. You are not ugly. You are not useless. You would not be better off gone. I’m sorry for almost throwing you out into the street because my sadness was too much for me. I’m sorry for carving my fingernails into your thigh and then resenting the way people asked, “How’d that happen?” I’m sorry for plucking you and nicking your calves with drugstore razors. I’m sorry I let some people see you in the moonlight. They didn’t deserve to know the color of your hips like I do. I’m sorry for leaving you convulsing over a toilet bowl over some boy. I’m sorry I did not thank you for simply trying to take me where I wanted to go. I’m sorry I screamed at you to shrink, shrink, shrink when all you could do was grow. I’m sorry that this apology is ten years too late. I’m sorry that it will probably come again. I’m sorry that I do not treat anybody else as poorly as I have treated you. I’m sorry that I am constantly learning how to love you, when you have never once doubted how you feel about me. I’m sorry in ways I have not yet learned to communicate.”

An Apology to My Body | Lora Mathis (via daeum)

“Everyone always wants to know how you can tell when it’s true love, and the answer is this: when the pain doesn’t fade and the scars don’t heal, and it’s too damned late.”

– Jonathan Tropper, The Book of Joe (via simply-quotes)