My father used to say, “Don’t raise your voice. Improve your argument.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu (via te-hya)
I am here to argue today, that beauty actually is skin deep. So I’ve done some research and I’ve learned… that it is. When you get compliments from people who don’t ordinarily compliment you… when people look at you differently. Packaging does matter.
I wasn’t “pretty”… then I was. This is a world where pretty seems better somehow. Which is too bad, but it’s not debatable. However, I also learned that if you get swept up by what you are on the outside, you can lose who you are on the inside.
Even though it is easy to be fooled by the beauty of “The Trojan Horse”, its real power comes from the army within. Intelligence… compassion…integrity… courage… that army, is the real you - no matter what you look like.
So, even though beauty may be skin deep, beauty is nowhere near as important as the army inside. And let’s try not to forget that.
Isadora Smackle, Girl Meets World (via unwokendreams)
Hate and love
Beau Taplin || Room for one.
People ask me if I’m lonely. I’m not lonely. I read a lot.
My great-great Aunt Irene, aged 90 (via its-notcomplicated)
I’m not totally mad at you. I’m just sad. You’re all locked up in that little world of yours, and when I try knocking on the door, you just sort of look up for a second and go right back inside.
Haruki Murakami (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
It’s funny how one summer can change everything. It must be something about the heat and the smell of chlorine, fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle, asphalt sizzling after late-day thunderstorms, the steam rising while everything drips around it. Something about long, lazy days and whirring air conditioners and bright plastic flip-flops from the drugstore thwacking down the street. Something about fall being so close, another year, another Christmas, another beginning. So much in one summer, stirring up like the storms that crest at the end of each day, blowing out all the heat and dirt to leave everything gasping and cool. Everyone can reach back to one summer and lay a finger to it, finding the exact point when everything changed. That summer was mine.
That Summer (Sarah Dessen)