this is just a place where i put pieces of my soul. like a horcrux.
Robert Frost (via realizes)
I wish people typed (read: copy and pasted) the whole poem instead of the last verse
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
BY ROBERT FROST
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Sandi Toksvig (via natatouille, learninglog) (via whittletheworld) (via nadimnaaman) (via iwasbornhuman) (via mattheal) (via aviculae) (via thelingerieaddict) (via kittenfeathers) (via buttcardigans) (via justlovelifeandlies) (via ohtiffxny) (via mullingayr) (via miery) (via when-i-was-a-young-wart-hog)