4,965 notesplease,
refrain from making your sentences
look as though they’re poetry.
all they are
is illogically spaced sentences
that make you look
like a huge
wanker
trying to write the first paragraph of a thing
trying to make a great idea for a story into a cohesive plot
sneaking into the house on a drunken night
170,874 notes
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow. ❞
Requiescat, Oscar Wilde, 1881
Wilde wrote this poem for his sister Isola, who died of meningitis aged 9.
(via mirroir)
281 notes
