Look at the sky. It’s not dark and black and without character. The black is, in fact deep blue. And over there: lighter blue and blowing through the blues and blackness the winds swirling through the air and then shining, burning, bursting through: the stars!
Write drunk, edit sober.
Ernest Hemingway (via nudelip)
Manhattan at 6 a.m.
I wish you were in this room with me right now. I wish I could put my arms around you. I wish I could touch you.
Her  (via hefuckin)