I left my wool scarf in the backseat of your car all winter, and sometimes I risk strangulation by wearing it to bed just because it smells like you and the muddy shoes you have in your trunk and the bonfire-smell blanket you’ve had in there for years because “you just never know when you need to venture into the middle of nowhere and give the grass some attention.” And it’s not like I want to die, god no, but it wouldn’t be the worst way to go, you know, wrapped in memories.

“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
— Maya Angelou (via navisis)

(via future-minister-of-magic)