All their lovers’ talk began with the phrase “After the war”.
After the war, when we’re married, shall we live in Italy? There are nice places. My father thinks I wouldn’t like it, but I would. As long as I’m with you. After the war, if we have a girl, can we call her Lemoni? After the war, if we’ve a son, we’ve got to call him Iannis. After the war, I’ll speak to the children in Greek, and you can seak to them in Italian, and that way they’ll grow bilingual. After the war, I’m going to write a concerto, and I’ll dedicate it to you. After the war, I’m going to train to be a doctor, and I don’t care if they don’t let women in, I’m still going to do it. After the war I’ll get a job in a convent, like Vivaldi, teaching music, and all the little girls will fall in love with me, and you’ll be jealous. After the war, let’s go to America, I’ve got relatives in Chicago. After the war we won’t bring our children with any religion, they can make their own minds up when they’re older. After the war, we’ll get our own motorbike, and we’ll go all over Europe, and you can give concerts in hotels, and that’s how we’ll live, and I’ll start writing poems. After the war I’ll get a mandola so that I can play viola music. After the war I’ll love you, after the war, I’ll love you, I’ll love you forever, after the war.
― Louis de Bernières, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin (via quotes-shape-us)

Apr 15 14:24 with 112 notes

Phosphenes n. the stars and colors you see when you rub your eyes.

(Source: littleigor)

Apr 13 4:48 with 54,729 notes
Life is a question of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which thought hides itself and passion has its dreams. You may fancy yourself safe and think yourself strong. But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play… I tell you, that it is on things like these that our lives depend.
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via bookmania)

Apr 12 19:12 with 2,040 notes
Fingers have a memory,
to read the familiar braille of another’s skin.
The body has a memory:
the children we make,
places we’ve hurt ourselves,
sieves of our skeletons in the fat soil.
No words mean as much as a life.
Only the body pronounces perfectly
the name of another.
Anne Michaels, from “Words for the Body”, in The Weight of Oranges (via hiddenshores)

Apr 12 14:25 with 61 notes
Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.
― Isabelle Eberhardt, The Nomad: The Diaries of Isabelle Eberhardt (via quotes-shape-us)

Apr 12 9:36 with 388 notes
There are a million ways to bleed. But you are by far my favorite.
― Iain Thomas (via quotes-shape-us)

Apr 12 4:48 with 342 notes
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