I carry inside my heart,
As in a chest too full to shut,
All the places where I have been,
All the ports at which I have called,
All the sights I’ve seen through windows and portholes
And from quarterdecks, dreaming.
And all of this, which is so much, is nothing next to what I want.

Fernando Pessoa

(via melancholynotes)

(Source: growing-orbits, via booklover)