The moon is beautiful, isn’t it? ( a classical playlist )

- Timestamps! - 0:00 Le Carnaval des Animaux, R. 125: XIII. Le Cygne (Andantino grazioso) (Arr. Hazell for Orchestra & Cello) · Leonard Slatkin 3:18 Edward Elgar - Salut d'Amour Op.12 6:32 HAUSER - Nocturne in C Sharp Minor 11:09 Woodland · Evelyn Stein 13:15 Schubert - Serenade 17:51 HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni) 24:48 LA LA LAND - Mia and Seb's Theme/Epilogue \\ Jacob's Piano 26:48 Tchaikovsky - Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy 29:16 Isabella's Lullaby - The Promised Neverland OST | Piano Cover

Do y'all ever feel like the world is moving to fast

me: vibing youtube: wRiTiNg'S nOt ThAt EaSy. GrAmMaRlY cAn HeLp.

I don't understand how some people don't like classical music, it's so beautiful.

“She liked the moon because, like herself, it shined it’s brightest when no one was around too see” -a beautiful person

"the moon beautiful isn't it?" "yeah" alarm rings and wake up.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" I turn to him, my heart aching. He's smiling down at me, stroking my hair as though I'm something beautiful. As though I'm something worthy of gentleness, of comfort. It's too late to warn him. My fangs rip out of my gums, my back bending and cracking. I'm screaming in my mind, thrashing powerlessly as the curse takes control. He stumbles forward as if to catch me, but an inhuman growl tears out of my new form. Pale, he takes a step backward. "You said you weren't one of them," he breathes. Betrayal stings his voice. I can do nothing but watch as he is torn apart, his blood bursting over my tongue. Yes, the moon is beautiful. Even if it was the death of him.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” You ask softly as you walk hand in hand with the man of your dreams. “Yes, I suppose it is” he replied, looking up to the night sky. So he doesn’t get it... “Oh, and I love you too” he said softly.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" she whispered. There was something about not having to look him in the eye, laying there on the grass, and instead seeing the same sky. It felt more intimate somehow. The pressure was gone, and they were just voices, just souls next to each other, lost in the night.  But he wasn't looking at the moon. He was looking at her.  "Yes," he said quiet, aware of the fragile silence. "Beautiful."  She didn't tear her gaze away from the stars, thinking about how they were so small, so insignificant compared to the universe. She turned to him perhaps in hopes of mentioning this notion, an instinct to look at him while she spoke, but saw him staring straight at her.  Embarrassed, he shifted his eyes up, taking careful note of how in the corner of his vision, she was still looking at him.  "Was there something you wanted to say?" he prompted, thankful that the lack of light most likely hid his blushing.  The girl didn't look away still, shameless; much more brave with this kind of thing than he was, that was for sure.  "Yes," she said. "Just-" she stopped herself and reached for his hand. "The moon is beautiful."  He forced himself to look at her, stomach flipping, fluttering. "You already said that." A half smile, uncertain.  "I know," she said. "That's not what I meant this time."  He looked at her, somehow fearless of her intense eyes. "I see. Well then-I agree. The moon is very beautiful."

i was in front of target today with my mom, and saw a son and father playing violin to some songs. what really hurt was how their violin case was completely empty when i went up to them to give a couple bucks. i looked into the father’s eyes to wish him a good day, but his eyes were so... empty. it felt like all the happiness inside of him was sucked out and put into the music. the songs they played were cheerful, but their emotions felt so far away. truly the most emotional thing i’ve seen in person since a long time. i just wish everyone could stay humble and thankful for all they have because not everyone is as privileged as you may be.

Anemoia. This word means; nostalgia for a time you never experienced and never will. We all share a connection to the past. Our fond memories of our past lovers, friends and family. We never lose our history. We only forget it. It's still there. Our feelings are still there. Love never dies, it's only forgotten. (Note: hey I'm not exactly a writer or into writing so please don't be a critic 😊)

"and if you're ever feeling lonely just look at the moon." "someone. somewhere is looking right at it too"

I Told The Stars About You “I told the stars about you” She whispered out into the silence, scared to disturb the peace that had fallen upon them. “Hm” His elegant voice hummed softly behind her, a melancholy sound that could bring the poets to their knees. “Would you like to know what I told them?” She shuffled in his arms, laying her head on his shoulder. “Did you tell them how beautiful you look beneath their glow?” He whispered in her ear. “Or how the light that shines in your eyes takes my breath away?” He moved a strand of her mocha curls behind her ear. A small laugh escaped her lips, one that melted the man's heart. “No,” She whispered with a small giggle. ``Well did you tell them how you look as if you were a piece of art, that took years for the artist to get just right as you lay down and gaze at the lights?” A smile grew on her face, she moved to face him. “No I told them how-” My pencil froze before the paper, what proper words can describe the undying love and admiration that she feels for this man. That I would not know I’ve never been in love

— The moon is beautiful, isn't it? — She spoke to herself. Leaning on her balcony, peacefully watching the moonlight, enjoying the solitude and calm of the night. There was no dawn she wasn't there, engaging a conversation with the moon without a word coming out of her lips. For her, the moon was her confidante, who kept her deepest secrets and thoughts, and almost always all of them were about him. She wondered if he stayed at those hours like her, thinking of someone. She'll never admit it, but the truth was that she had little hope and illusion that, that someone was her.... But how? How is it that he, having an entire universe to himself, would notice a simple star? The moon desperately wished she could tell her that while she saw herself as a simple star, she was someone's universe. And that someone was him. Every night at that same time he asked the moon about her, longing to meet each other one day. Longing to meet his whole universe.... — The moon is beautiful, isn't it? — He sighed as he walked back to his room, with his heart in hand and hoping that this time, the moon would hear him and fulfil his greatest wish. The greatest wish of twin flames destinated to meet.

'It's beautiful isn't it? The moon.' - Ron Weasley

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" "I always thought the moon looked like a tortilla"

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” “We’re in different time zones.” “oh.. right.” ~twelve hours later~ “Yes, the moon is very pretty tonight.” (yeah this actually happened to me 😂)

me, in love with remus lupin: "the moon is beautiful, isn't it?" him: "NO."

The moon is beautiful isn’t it? For the moon is alone Crying during the day only to shine at night It’s broken, all these scars Yet it shines so bright, Bringing beauty to the darkness So far from the stars. So lonely Yet so beautiful

My girlfriend and I were stargazing: "What a beautiful night. Aren't the stars and the moon just beautiful?" "Um... I can't really see anything. I forgot my glasses." "Why didn't you say something?! We're laying here for almost 20 minutes." "I know you're enjoying this, so I didn't want to ruin this moment."