@soracities

It’s because of her calmness that he loves her. And the one we love has to be calm because nothing is as loathsome as anxiety. Never before has anyone he loved been so calm. Never before has he himself been so still. When they come together, they come together in a great moment of peace and stillness. They are not afraid of the unimaginable thing that is happening. All they can feel is that one calm is joining another calm, like a great calm wave washing over a warm calm rock.
Stig Dagerman, A Moth to a Flame (Burnt Child) (trans. Benjamin Mier-Cruz)

decreation:

dykemulcahy:

any story that someone tells you in the kitchen is a good one

bluebeard’s egg, margaret atwood

nubbsgalore :

you don’t need psilocybin to put the fun in fungi. photos by steve axford. click picture for individual fungal species shown. 

heavenlyyshecomes:

“Darkness obscures and sunlight reveals, but dusk– that liminal moment in between–murmurs suggestions.”

— Pamela Petro, ‘Shedding Light’, in Guernica Magazine

markentwisle :

wedding by Mark Entwisle

Frank Bidart, “In the Western Night”, Half-Light: Collected Poems, 1965-2016

[Text ID: “my hands wanted to touch your hands

because we had hands.”]

namasteybollywood :

Fitoor (2016)

But for a long time a desert was inside her.
Andre Dubus, from “Falling in Love”, Dancing After Hours: Stories

justbmarks :

One of the most interesting abandoned places - Church in St. Etienne, France

via reddit

As an act of bravery, love cannot be sentimental; as an act of freedom, it must not serve as a pretext for manipulation. It must generate other acts of freedom; otherwise, it is not love. Only by abolishing the situation of oppression is it possible to restore the love which that situation made impossible. If I do not love the world—if I do not love life—if I do not love people—I cannot enter into dialogue.
Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed (via milkboydotnet )

The Baron Returns, dir. Adam Breier

At the National Museum of the American Indian,
68 percent of the collection is from the U.S.
I am doing my best to not become a museum
of myself. I am doing my best to breathe in and out.
I am begging: Let me be lonely but not invisible.

In an American city of one hundred people,
I am Native American—less than one, less than
whole—I am less than myself. Only a fraction
of a body, let’s say I am only a hand—

and when I slip it beneath the shirt of my lover,
I disappear completely.
Natalie Diaz, from ‘American Arithmetic’

That murmur, without any human meaning, would be my identity touching the identity of things.
Clarice Lispector, The Passion According to G.H. (via bergmans-ghost )

milquetoastism :

Chungking Express (Wong Kar-wai, 1994)

krymsk:

Counting Crows - Raining In Baltimore

cinemabyziontmusicvideo :

this is shit bc i’m tired and i decided to make this on a whim and really quickly (i’ll probably remake it if anyone wants me to) but this is what i was talking abt in my moonlight soundtrack post

dawn had not yet begun to break, it was still dark but something had already begun to relent in this darkness, promising that later on the darkness would slowly, utterly slowly, be sifted through, like a delicate breath, with light…
Laszló Krasznahorkai, Seiobo There Below (trans. Ottilie Muzlet)

365filmsbyauroranocte :

Le Navire Night (Marguerite Duras, 1979)

a-quiet-green-agreement:

It gets to be like an old friend, a wound.

— Kazuo Ishiguro, The Unconsoled

dozydawn:

Stroboscopic photographs of the New York City Ballet’s production of Jewels, 1967. Photographed by Gjon Mili.

mournfulroses :

Tadeusz Różewicz, tr. by Robert A. Maguire, from “Who Is A Poet,”

mashamorevna:

Agyness Dean in “Spooky” by Tim Walker for LOVE Magazine (Spring/Summer 2015)

What I write you has no beginning: it’s a continuation. From the words of this song, a song that’s mine and yours, there arises a halo that transcends the lines…do you feel it?
Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

cineaesthesia :

Coffee Colored Children (Ngozi Onwurah, 1988)

The sconce himself was visited by wood-worms, who tunneled deep inside him. He could not move his mouth or his cheeks but his soul giggled at the sensation. Their consumption of him felt tender.
Camilla Grudova, from “The Sad Tale of the Sconce”, The Doll’s Alphabet

Hide me in the story of the tender evening
Hide me under one of the two date palms
and teach me poetry
So I can learn how to walk beside Homer
So I can add to the story a description of Akka
the oldest of the beautiful cities
the most beautiful of the old cities…
Mahmoud Darwish, from ‘Mural’, Mural (trans. John Berger & Rema Hammami)

Question:

Hi! Your blog is my favorite place on the internet. Do you happen to have any quotes or lines about lovers and, like, loyalty? Like loyalty over ethics? Choosing each other over the world? Thank you <3

Answer:

“I heard about a man and a woman who lived in Petrograd in 1917. These two were so in love with each other that they didn’t even notice the Revolution.”

Boris Pasternak, unknown

“The blood flood is the flood of love, / The absolute sacrifice. / It means: no more idols but me, / Me and you.”

Sylvia Plath, “The Munich Mannequins”

“Now I see that love is selfish. It makes you a country of two. At war with the rest of the world.”

Henrik Ibsen, Rosmersholm

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

“She’s kept her love for him as alive as the summer they first met. In order to do this, she’s turned life away. Sometimes she subsists for days on water and air. Being the only known complex life-form to do this, she should have a species named after her. Once Uncle Julian told me how the sculptor and painter Alberto Giacometti said that sometimes just to paint a head you have to give up the whole figure. To paint a leaf, you have to sacrifice the whole landscape. It might seem like you’re limiting yourself at first, but after a while you realize that having a quarter-of-an-inch of something you have a better chance of holding on to a certain feeling of the universe than if you pretended to be doing the whole sky.

My mother did not choose a leaf or a head. She chose my father, and to hold on to a certain feeling, she sacrificed the world.”

Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

"Without you, life is entirely feasible but hateful.”

Katie Ward, Girl Reading

Elisabeth Hewer, “Dove Hands”

“I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder’d at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr’d for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you.”  

John Keats, letter to Fanny Brawne

“I love you with a love that reaches you on the other shore. That dark, unknown shore where, in order to follow you, my love stumbles forth blindly, bleeding, but always holding you tight.”

Dulce María Loynaz, “Poem XCI”

Lorde, “The Louvre”

“I really like the idea of love as a violent act—not to the person that you love, but against the world. To say to somebody, ‘I love you; by extension, I hate all other things.”

Hozier, from an interview

“O I willingly stake all for you, / O let me be lost if it must be so! / O you and I! what is it to us what the rest / do or think? / What is all else to us? only that we enjoy / each other and exhaust each other if / it must be so”

Walt Whitman, “From Pent-Up Aching Rivers”

Franz Kafka, The Castle

Geoffrey Hill, from Odi Barbare

Hozier, “Shrike”

Question:

hello, love! do you have any poems or excerpts or anything about falling out of love? thank you in advance! have a wonderful day ahead💘 (p.s i love your blog, really)

Answer:

#the aftermath of love  ♡

Question:

I want to start reading literature...Novels, short stories, poems, et cetera. Do you know where I should start? What books/authors I should look at?

Answer:

my thoughts on should reads is summed up here, and as for where to start there’s a few things under #beginner guides. ! if you are looking for something more specific please let me know and i’ll see what i can do x