FROM THE MIND OF A WORDSMITH
In my deepest wound I saw Your glory, and it astounded me.
St. Augustine (via soy-la-marienkaefer)
I used to wake up in the morning and tell myself. ‘I hate you.’ It was just routine and almost subconscious.
I told my pastor this and he told me this and since then I rarely tell myself ‘I hate you.’ When I do say it out of habit now I just laugh.
He said ‘God’s language is of truth and life. The devil speaks lies and death. That makes the devil a liar and a murderer. He wants to kill you physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. If he achieves those any of things you will be less likely to spread God’s word of truth and life.’
He went on to say ‘when you tell yourself things like -i hate you, you’re stupid, kill yourself, etc. Is any of it true? Not likely and who is it that feeds you lies and why?’
The devil has an agenda. I will no longer flatter him by eating up his lies. I am a follower of Christ I will believe the truths he gives me.
coyote-cowgirl.tumblr.com (via societykillscreativity)

red-lipstick:

Taylor Marie McCormick aka Lalasiy - 1: Float On, 2012  2: 3.52, 2011  3: Starrs, 2012  4: Nightlights, 2012  5: Cosmic, 2012  6: White Night, 2012  7: Trance, 2012      Photography

I wonder if your chest ever aches at the sound of my name the same way mine does whenever I hear yours.
(via the-psycho-cutie)

mynista:

#Regram from @lil_boogie_geeked:
“Me and @jray2015 and @_richhomiehan_ listen to that nothing but the blood by @mynista #theblood #116 #jesusovereverything #Jesusislife”

Notice the people who are happy for your happiness, and sad for your sadness. They’re the ones who deserve special places in your heart.
(via suspend)
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson (via observando)

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrence
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

and:

No one can stop the river of your hands,
your eyes and their sleepiness, my dearest.
You are the trembling of time, which passes
between the vertical light and the darkening sky.

and:

From the stormy archipelagoes I brought
my windy accordian, waves of crazy rain,
the habitual slowness of natural things:
they made up my wild heart.

Pablo Neruda (via observando)