Nineteenth-century Love Note ring; “An object of exquisite beauty, it comes from the long tradition of the exchange of gifts and love tokens, which often took place between inamoratas who had to keep their affections secret from the world. A ring like this one would have been solely the province of the wealthy, yet love tokens proliferated in the lower orders too, often in the shape of small denomination coins – like pennies or nickels – being engraved with initials, monograms, names or romantic scenes, and then slipped into a lover’s pocket.” 

(Source: moscowprotection, via clevermore-deactivated20121125)

Maybe the first time you saw her you were ten. She was standing in the sun scratching her legs. Or tracing letters in the dirt with a stick. Her hair was being pulled. Or she was pulling someone’s hair. And a part of you was drawn to her, and a part of you resisted—wanting to ride off on your bicycle, kick a stone, remain uncomplicated. In the same breath you felt the strength of a man, and a self-pity that made you feel small and hurt. Part of you thought: Please don’t look at me. If you don’t, I can still turn away. And part of you thought: Look at me.

∞ 1,292 notes #The History of Love#Nicole Krauss

Nicole Krauss (The History of Love)

(Source: quote-book, via themoongirl)

You’re just a sculpture that still moves in the museum of my mind. So keep walking. Art shouldn’t stop for anyone.

∞ 720 notes #I Wrote This for You

I meet you. I remember you. Who are you? You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. How could I know this city was tailor-made for love? How could I know you fit my body like a glove? I like you. How unlikely. I like you. How slow all of a sudden. How sweet. You cannot know. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. I have time. Please, devour me. Deform me to the point of ugliness. Why not you? Why not you in this city and in this night, so like other cities and other nights you can hardly tell the difference? I beg of you.

∞ 721 notes #Marguerite Duras#Hiroshima Mon Amour

Hiroshima Mon Amour, written by Marguerite Duras, 1959

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)