When nothing seems right
And everyone’s gone
You don’t know what to do

When the only thing that’s left
Is to take over the world
And let it burn with you

When the world stops breathing
And nobody even cares
Hold onto that blinding light

When you take a step back
And just want to get away
Keep your hand raised high

When all you can do
Is shut your mind
Forget whatever is true

When there’s no clue
And nothing is new
Take a minute to rewind

Stop and stay in the moment
Wait until everything has lifted
Armor up for the battle

I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity and her flaming self respect and it’s these things I’d believe in even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all that she should be… . I love her and that’s the begininng and end of everything.
F. Scott Fitzgerald

As I draw near the battlefield

I heard my heart thumping

My hands started trembling

And my legs, shaking

Like I’ve never seen war

All my worries glaring at me

Everything is looming around

A kryptonite shoved down my throat

Can’t fly away

I’m here, I’m lost

I simply want to touch her cheek… I want to cut through the space that separates us, measured in feet—not miles, not continents, not years—and to take a callused finger to her face.
Gayle Forman - Where She Went
We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?
Dead Poets Society (1989) - A Writer’s Ruminations:
But I do not wish to escape to myself, I wish to escape from myself. I wish to obliterate my consciousness and my knowledge of independent existence, my guilts, my secretiveness, what you would (perhaps unkindly) call my “hypocrisy”. I am no child of nature, I am ugly and imperfect to myself, and I cannot through poetry or romantic visions exalt myself to symbolic glory.
Allen Ginsberg, from a letter to Jack Kerouac (via violentwavesofemotion)

Having words will be difficult when you’ve exhausted your voice from trying.

I’ve put my defenses up again and I have my game face on; I’m going to be a whole different person.

Know this: I’ll be a thunderstorm—I’ll be your thunderstorm. Your heart will race within these four walls.

I’m not angry or scared or anything. I learned how not to feel and I learned how not to care.

Everything’s got to end sometime, otherwise nothing would ever get started.
Eleventh Doctor, Doctor Who


"What’s a Raccoon?"

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You know, maybe we’re just not right for each other. We waited so long. We’ve been waiting, and yet the one chance we get- we don’t take. It’s right at our fingertips; it’s right in our grasp, but we don’t grab it. I don’t know what you want from me. I know we love each other, but maybe this isn’t gonna work. Maybe what we need is to just be friends… because this right now- this hurts me. I can’t walk around knowing how I feel about you and knowing how you feel about me… and yet not be together. Don’t break my heart. Let’s just let it go; maybe that’s what’s meant to happen.
thelovenotebook (via thelovenotebook)

Buying a ticket for one

Through infinity and beyond

Not wasting any time

I’m gonna start and run


Handwritten by whitepaperquotes contributor Mehernaz