![[ID: We have to let others be free to show us their love how- / ever they choose, however they know, however they / can—as long as they don’t destroy us. And what is love, / anyway? It’s clawmarks, scratches, scars, traces someone / leaves inside of you. The thing I fear most is stillness, / silence. I want permanent marks, life. What’s love for / you?]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/763cc43e47136224b6ee80cf74251127/a0bcfab94dec32c2-7d/s500x750/d003279cd1dfd352a2fe7471d8237a29e20d4727.jpg)
F. Scott Fitzgerald, from “Benediction,” in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Other Jazz Stories
(via existential-celestial)
2,009 notes
“Can’t I live in poems?”— Leonard Cohen, from “On The Sickness Of My Love”
(via existential-celestial)
11,384 notes
