I can barely conceive of a type of beauty in which there is no Melancholy.
— The Flowers of Evil, Charles Baudelaire (via oorequiemoo)
I came to a point where I needed solitude and to just stop the machine of ‘thinking’ and ‘enjoying’ what they call ‘living’, I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds.
— Jack Kerouac (via romanwildernessofpain)
I BELIEVE IN DEATH