Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
— W.B Yeats (via pecalove)
I want to do things with my life but I also want to bury myself in a forest and let the moss grow over me so where does that leave us
With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?
— Oscar Wilde (via willowmoonbeam)