May 2013
64 posts
My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.
— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via earth-rim-roamer)
(Source: seols, via earth-rim-roamer)
The moon did not become the sun. It just fell on the desert in great sheets, reams of silver handmade by you. The night is your cottage industry now, the day is your brisk emporium. The world is full of paper.
Write to me.
— Agha Shahid Ali, Stationery
Eroticism is one of the basic means of self-knowledge, as indispensable as poetry.
— Anaïs Nin, In Favor of the Sensitive Man and Other Essays (via foxesinbreeches)
(via trampled-rose)
The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.
— Rumi, The Illuminated Rumi (via itsfromabook)
(via youreyesblazeout)
‘Her voice had an extraordinary sadness. Pure from all body, pure from all passion, going out into the world, solitary, unanswered, breaking against rocks — so it sounded.’
— Virginia Woolf, Jacob’s Room (via c-ovet)
‘Because in the end you are really alone, whatever you do.’
— Marina Abramović (via petrichour)
‘It’s unbelievable how you can affect someone else so deeply and never know.’
— Susane Colasanti (via funeral)
‘I was made of delicate substance, mysterious time. Perhaps the source is within me. Perhaps the days emerge, fatal and illusory, from my shadow.’
— Jorge Luis Borges, from Heraclitus, translation by Thomas Frick (via corophagia)
‘All sorts of things in the world behave like mirrors.’
— Jacques Lacan, ‘Seminar II’ (via aidsnegligee)
‘In the morning there is meaning, in the evening there is feeling.’
— Gertrude Stein (via annie)
“You know, it is good to hide your brilliance under a bushel, to be anonymous, to...”
– J. Krishnamurti, by way of whiskey river (via violentwavesofemotion)
“But the dream
is only the flitting costume of one moment,
is spent in one beat...”
– from “In The Tower” by Pablo Neruda (via unwrittenwords)
“I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.”
– Sylvia Plath (via souls-entwined)
‘Art is the most beautiful deception of all. And although people try to incorporate the everyday events of life in it, we must hope that it will remain a deception lest it become a utilitarian thing, sad as a factory.’
Claude Debussy
“I have always loved everything about you. Even what I didn’t understand. And I...”
– Albert Camus, The Misunderstanding (via naranjitoo)
‘Put all the images in language in a place of safety and make use of them, for they are in the desert, and it’s in the desert we must go and look for them.’
- Jean Genet
