"Writing is a way of talking without being interrupted." - Jules Renard
Give me coffee, my best friend, and an early morning and I’m set. @dwight15 (at Chelsea Coffee Company)

Give me coffee, my best friend, and an early morning and I’m set. @dwight15 (at Chelsea Coffee Company)

I am deliriously in love with the thought of touching you. It’s wrong, I know, to feel so much so quickly, and that is what they tell you nowadays: that you never want to be the person who cares more, or who shows it. But I’d give a good amount of decency up if it meant I could indecently kiss your lips each night and touch your skin like it was made for my fingertips.

stoicmike:

Technology lets us keep in touch without ever touching. — Michael Lipsey

stoicmike:

Technology lets us keep in touch without ever touching. — Michael Lipsey

I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (“I’m not a big one for paying compliments…”), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself. For a moment life suddenly feels lighter, a bit more Gene Kelly dancing in the rain.

—Jonathan Carroll (via spuandi)

(Source: onlinecounsellingcollege, via andrea-quezadaa)

Say You Will

I can’t say I haven’t thought about climbing the mountains with you, because I have. Every once and a while I think about how absolutely insane all of this is, and I feel this incredible rush of excitement, where I had expected fear.

I thought it would be a week-kind-of-thing and then over quicker than it started. But here we are, almost two months in and I still can remember the moment I said “yes” to you. I can still feel your hand on my hip, my hand on your chest, and the summer humidity sinking his teeth into everything.

I still remember thinking that this was how a summer-boyfriend felt. All of my boys have always stopped in during the winter season, when teeth are chattering and all you can do to stay warm is cuddle up. They’d usually leave by summer, parched from the lack of some other type of thirst. But you, you took the chance when the heat could have been the thing to keep us away from each other. Yet, you pursued me.

I hope you see I’m pursuing you, too. I hope you see that even though I sometimes still feel a little fearful, a little apprehensive, I see what you see in us. I see it.