Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
— John Keats (via loveage-moondream)
Maybe the wolf is in love with the moon, and each month it cries for a love it will never touch.
Do you know what I need? To escape into the mountains, surrounded by tall trees, I will lay on the moss, and breath in the scent of mushrooms, flowers and wet soil.
— L’ Échappée (via cosmofilius)
She was tied to the moon by long threads of red tangled blood. She moved like a woman tied to the moon … it enveloped her and it opened her to an absolute night without dawn.
— Anaïs Nin, Snowdrops of winter … crocuses of spring, from Aphrodisiac (via loveage-moondream)