When you’re having a bad day and he calls and you tell him about your poop mood and he tells you everything you’ve been needing to hear and calms your worries and makes you feel all giggly once you hang up. That. That’s when you know he’s a keeper ;)


hindikitty:

“Amelie has no boyfriend. She’s tried once or twice, but the results were a let down. Instead, she cultivates a taste for small pleasures: dipping her hand into sacks of grain, cracking creme brulee with a teaspoon, and skipping stones at St. Martin’s canal.”

—Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Le Fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain

(Source: consultingkitty)

Making love was never about you and me in a bed. We made love whenever we held hands.
Ian Thomas, I Wrote This For You  (via audreylostinparis)

(Source: awdray)

She wore men’s pyjamas under a man’s blue silk bathrobe, and her jet-black hair had been cut into a Louise Brooks shingle bob with bangs. Her dark eyes were smeared with traces of the previous night’s mascara and kohl. A silk sleep mask had been pushed down around her neck.
The Diviners, by Libba Bray  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: theepitomeofquiet)


hindikitty:

“Amelie has no boyfriend. She’s tried once or twice, but the results were a let down. Instead, she cultivates a taste for small pleasures: dipping her hand into sacks of grain, cracking creme brulee with a teaspoon, and skipping stones at St. Martin’s canal.”

—Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Le Fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain

(Source: consultingkitty)