May 2013
As for me, I am a watercolor.
I wash off.
– Anne Sexton
The greatest mystery of all is reality.
– Beckmann
pedro1970:
“I think of you often. Especially in the evenings, when I am on the balcony and it’s too dark to write or to do anything but wait for the stars. A time I love. One feels half disembodied, sitting like a shadow at the door of one’s being while the dark tide rises. Then comes the moon, marvelously serene, and small stars, very merry for some reason of their own. It is so easy to forget,...
You can’t make homes out of human beings.
– Warsan Shire
Undisturbed,
my garden fills
with summer growth—
how I wish for one
who...
– Izumi Shikibu
We sit and talk quietly,
with long lapses of silence,
and I am aware of the...
– William Carlos Williams
Intense, perceptive, blonde, lovely Sylvia. Perhaps she knew too much in a way....
– Anne Sexton, on Sylvia Plath from “A self-portrait in letters.”
He was shy, timid, gentle, and kind, but he wrote gruesome and painful books. He...
– Milená Jesenská, speaking about Franz Kafka
It is possible that I have explored more terrible and more questionable worlds...
– Friedrich Nietzsche, from Selected Letters
So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would...
– Sylvia Plath
Imagine a room,
a sudden glow. Here is my hand, my heart,
my throat, my wrist....
– “Saying Your Names,” Richard Siken
A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute...
– Roald Dahl
Nothing is absolute. Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves,...
– Frida Kahlo
You are not a drop in the ocean.
You are the entire ocean in a drop.
– Rumi
Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of...
– Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations
Sometimes I can’t look you in the eye; you’re like a building that’s burned out...
– Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces
Most of the writers I know are weird hybrids. There’s a strong streak of...
– David Foster Wallace
For it would seem — her case proved it — that we write, not with the fingers,...
– Virginia Woolf, Orlando
In the wilderness is the salvation of the world.
– Henry David Thoreau
Old age, after all, is merely the punishment for having lived.
– Emil Cioran
Those who are able to see beyond the shadows and lies of their culture will...
– (via journalofanobody)
Like a little warm coal in my heart burns your saying that you miss me. I miss...
– Vita Sackville-West, in a letter to Virginia Woolf, dated 28 February 1926.
He likes me. I know he likes me. Of course I flatter him dreadfully. I find a...
– Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those...
– (via journalofanobody)
I fear too early, for my mind misgives
Some consequence, yet hanging in the...
– William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet (1.4.113-120)
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[T]here is a coherence in things, a stability; something, she meant, is immune...
– To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf
One must learn to be a sponge if one wants to be loved by hearts that overflow.
– Friedrich Nietzsche