Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
калинка моя!
Ἄκουε τὰ ἀπὸ καρδίας.
13 / 7 / 11
"From too much love of living,From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever ;
That dead men rise up never ;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea." - A.C. Swinburne (via theweariestriver)
(Source: elizabethbennetdarcy)
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