If intimacy with God, for you, hinges on your ability to manage your behavior, you will never walk intimately with God.
Matt Chandler  (via littlethingsaboutgod)

(via littlethingsaboutgod)



Never forget what a person says to you when they are angry.
Henry Ward Beecher (via stay-ocean-minded)

(via quote-book)


paulyshorespenisheadquarters:

kenyatta:

peterwknox:

zachdionne:

If you didn’t see Louie last night, watch this scene. (Or Vulture has the full text of the scene. And an interview with the actress. And a thoughtful response from Danielle Henderson, who is excellent and who’s recapping this season for them.)

And that last shot where the camera stays there and you see them from a distance…just wow - Louie man, this is a SCENE.

Vanessa: If I was a very, really beautiful, then you would have said yes when I asked you out. I mean, come on, Louie, be honest here. You know what’s funny? I flirt with guys all the time. And I mean the great looking ones, the really high-caliber studs? They flirt right back, no problem. Because they know their status will never be questioned. But guys like you never flirt with me, because you get scared that maybe you should be with a girl like me.

And why not? You know, if you were standing over there looking at us, you know what you’d see? That we totally match. We’re actually a great couple together. And yet, you would never date a girl like me.

UGHUGHUGHUGHUGH FEEEEEELINGSSSSSSSSSSS

(via caragh)


I always marvel at the humans’ ability to keep going. They always manage to stagger on even with tears streaming down their faces.
Markus Zusak, The Book Thief  (via perfect)

(via catholicleighann)


if only you could see yourself now,
you’re settling back into a quiet autumn
and you’ve missed the smell of must, rain, and tobacco
kissed into the corners and couches
of the same house you share with seven others.

you miss the girl who used to sleep on your couch
who had the skull of the bird she is named after
tattooed across her arm.
you are glad you stopped drinking.

it’s 2am and you’re staying up far too late.
you have an interview for a job in the morning
that you will come to hate in 2 months.
you’re not in love the way you expected.

some memories turned into broken drawers
that you chose to store all your knives in,
every time you open them, they always come spilling out towards you.
you miss having sex with people you also love.

precariousness is now the pillow you sleep upon,
and you no longer have such structured repeating romance.
you no longer have such a structured repeating life,
and I know it killed you that you knew it wasn’t forever.

i know i can’t stop you from panicking,
but it will all make sense.
you repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat
until you realized it was too early to build such a life based on repetition.

you’re settling back into a quiet autumn,
and you’re stone sober at 4am after a Friday night
while the world starts to makes a strange kind of sense,
the same way words become meaningless when repeated enough times.

all of this
is to say,
you made it this far,
and i’m proud of you.

Brandon Speck, “A Letter to Myself, A Year Ago”  (via oofpoetry)




I stopped going to therapy
because I knew my therapist was right
and I wanted to keep being wrong.
I wanted to keep my bad habits
like charms on a bracelet.
I did not want to be brave.
I think I like my brain best
in a bar fight with my heart.
I think I like myself a little broken.
I’m ok if that makes me less loved.
I like poetry better than therapy anyway.
The poems never judge me
for healing wrong.