Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns
Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Angel’s Game
These were the things that added up to Noah that morning, from bottom to top:
Shoes: gray Chucks.
Pants: charcoal tweed.
Shirt: slim cut, untucked, thin and pinstriped dress shirt. Super skinny tie, knotted loose around his open collar, exposing the shadow of a screen-printed t-shirt beneath it.
Days unshaven: somewhere between three and five.
Eyes: blue and infinite.
Hair: a beautiful, beautiful mess.
“Morning,” he said, his voice warm and rich. God help me.
“Morning,” I managed to reply, squinting. From the sun, or from staring at him for too long. Flip a coin.
“You need sunglasses,” he said.
I rubbed my eyes. “I know.”
Suddenly, he crouched down.
“What are you—”
In my rush, I hadn’t tied my shoelaces.
Noah was now tying them for me. He looked up at me through his dark fringe of lashes and smiled.
The expression on his face melted me completely. I knew I had the goofiest grin plastered on my lips, and didn’t care.
“There,” he said as he finished tying the laces on my left shoe.
“Now you won’t fall.”
Too late." - Mara Dyer ♡ Noah Shaw, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer (via mixtapesaboutlove)
[breaks down and heaves ugly sobs because of my broken OTP]
I want to live simply. I want to sit by the window when it rains and read books I’ll never be tested on. I want to paint because I want to, not because I’ve got something to prove. I want to listen to my body, fall asleep when the moon is high and wake up slowly, with no place to rush off to. I want not to be governed by money or clocks or any of the artificial restraints that humanity imposes on itself. I just want to be, boundless and infinite.
Fourtris Scenes → Say it Again by *palnk
They aren’t even a major ship of mine, but these are too adorable to ignore
Portrait of a Heart by Christian Schloe