“ We were given: Two hands to hold. Two legs to walk. Two eyes to see. Two ears to listen. But why only one heart? Because the other was given to someone else. For us to find.
Unknown
Hello you!
No doubt, today I am turning 19, and still as overwhelmed by the world like before. I don’t really have any plans to celebrate it because I think birthdays are just another day, and you don’t really have to kick a big fuss out of it. This whole year was a year full of challenges. It is all about pushing limits and overcoming life obstacles. Reality might had disappointed me in a way or another, but I think it is really time I learn how to toughen myself up and get ready for all the other upcoming challenges!
I’m thankful of the lovely folks over here at tumblr. People here had played an important part of my life and I’m so thankful that Tumblr happened to my life. Enjoy your holidays! Be merry! 2010 will be a better year!
Can someone send me a snow scene over at your side, pleaseeee? Argh I want to see the snow!!
“ We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.
Anonymous
“ Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep… wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you’ re just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have YOU… The one who turns to his friends and says, thats her…
Unknown
“ Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.
St. Augustine, “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin”
