January 2012
138 posts
“Our separation from each other is an optical illusion of consciousness.”
– Albert Einstein (via celiadiary)
December 2011
138 posts
“My imagination is a monastery and I am it’s monk.”
– John Keats (via mirroir)
“You are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing.”
– E.E. Cummings (via waitingforteaagain)
“Evil is a growing thing
It has its own gravity
and never answers to its name...”
– Fanny Howe, from “One Night in Balthazar” (via proustitute)
“I wept under water, salt seeking salt.”
– Derek Walcott, from “The Schooner Flight” (via weissewiese)
“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way (s)he handles...”
– Maya Angelou (via wanderforwhisht)
“When I am silent, I have thunder hidden inside.”
– Rumi (via mirroir)
“The astonishing flowers, seething
a blue I could barely see.”
– Mark Doty, from “Days of 1981” in Fire to Fire (via shesinacoma)
“I think a lot, but I don’t say much.”
– Anne Frank (via wintersbones)
everythingyouaskme asked: Tag, you’re it! Here are the rules: Each tagged person must post ten things about themselves. You have to choose and tag ten people. Go to their blogs and tell them you tagged them. No tag backs. If you don't want to publish, just send to me b/c I want to read them!
“I have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat!”
– Emily Brontë (via rabbitinthemoon)
“Hands
these things that dust in words.”
– Hoa Nguyen (via fragilethoughts-)
“I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.”
– Franz Kafka (via lavandula)
fauns:
In the night, I wish to speak with the angel to find out if she recognizes my eyes If she will ask me: do you see Eden? And I’ll reply: Eden burns…
— rainer maria rilke
“I am the outskirts of some non-existent town, the long-winded prologue to an...”
– Fernando Pessoa (via lavenderbones)
Claimed by the sea →
“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.”
– George Orwell (via rabbitinthemoon)
: from Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf →
diamondnight:
“It is time,” said Rezia.
The word ‘time’ split its husk; poured its riches over him; and from his lips fell like shells, like shavings from a plane, without his making them, hard, white, imperishable words, and flew to attach themselves to their places in an ode to Time; an immortal ode to Time….
“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow, and I am in them, and that is...”
– Edvard Munch (via moldavia)
“It is strange how the dead leap out on us at street corners, or in dreams.”
– The Waves, Virginia Woolf
“How much better is silence; The coffee-cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee-cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself. Do not come and worry me with your hints that it it time to shut the shop and be gone. I will willingly give all my...
“The sea is nothing but a library of all the tears in history.”
– Lemony Snicket, The End (via nocternity)
“I have sea foam in my veins,
I understand the language of waves.”
– Le Testament d’Orphée (via asphyxiations, butterflyflutterbygoodbye) (via arosary) (via wolfsmilk)
“I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found…”
– John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America (via liquidnight)
“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the...”
– Charles Dickens, Great Expectations (via how-far-is-heaven)
“Time. Aching like a bruise, pounding like a heart.”
– Amanda Marquit, Shut the Door (via serialstranger)
“I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.”
– Pablo Neruda (via seabois)
