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Simiane-la-Rotonde, France 

(via fairytale-europe)


Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.


- Emily Dickinson (via observando)

"When love finds you, it doesn’t come with crashing waves or thunderbolts. It appears in a song on the radio or a particular blue in the sky."

- Lang Leav (via lovequotesrus)

(via youaremysupernova)