I overcame myself, the sufferer; I carried my own ashes to the mountains; I...– Friedrich Nietzsche (via razzaroniii)
Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion - T.S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”
modfic-heatherbee: The elite stance involved a certain relaxed contempt for the flesh. The body was meat. Case fell into the prison of his own flesh. -William Gibson, Neuromancer, page 6
Things aren’t different. Things are things.– William Gibson, Neuromancer. (via shedidlookback)
Which is more difficult, to awaken one who sleeps or to awaken one who, awake,...– Søren Kierkegaard, Works of Love (via lovevoltaireusapart)
People think that falling in love they make themselves whole? The platonic union...– Phillip Roth (via half-shy)
How I devour solitude! I shall smell a red rose; shall gently surge across the...– Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Ethel Smyth dated 28 September 1930 (via violentwavesofemotion)
We often refuse to accept an idea merely because the tone of voice in which it...– Friedrich Nietzsche (via paperimages)
It has been a beautiful fight. Still is.– Charles Bukowski (via likeafieldmouse)
We are like sculptors, constantly carving out of others the image we long for,...– Anaïs Nin (via aufwaerts)
yesyes: I am not often off-kilter. but you’re so silent, even naked, and almost absent. I hush too, why are we here. go. want to throw things, you, the clock, break windows until something bleeds and you finally scream. I tell you too much; we are not those people. or nothing—maybe I say utilitarian fuck. how would that be. I want you to want to fall in love with me and that’s unhealthy. wrong....
We read to find the end, for the story’s sake. We read not to reach it, for the...– Alberto Manguel, A History of Reading (with thanks to invisiblestories)
Life begins on the other side of despair.– Jean-Paul Sartre (via quotefullness)
Your love Should never be offered to the mouth of a stranger, Only to someone...– Hafiz (via likeafieldmouse)
The Conditional by Ada Limón
kathleenjoy: Say tomorrow doesn’t come. Say the moon becomes an icy pit. Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified. Say the sun’s a foul black tire fire. Say the owl’s eyes are pinpricks. Say the raccoon’s a hot tar stain. Say the shirt’s plastic ditch-litter. Say the kitchen’s a cow’s corpse. Say we never get to see it: bright future, stuck like a bum star, never coming close, never dazzling. Say we...
caribbeanwriters: such great stretches of dreamscape such lines of all too familiar lines staved in caved in so the filthy wake resounds with the notion of the pair of us? What of the pair of us? Pretty much the tale of the family surviving disaster: “In the ancient serpent stink of our blood we got clear of the valley; the village loosed stone...
Inside myself the layers of history behind a wave are even more important,...– - Malcolm Knox, “Writing on Water: “
Regressing Forward: Big Mundaka →
regressingforward: After the fourth day of rain, hail and a forecast projecting more of the same, we headed towards the infamous surf break Mundaka in hopes of catching a large, unruly winter swell. The wiser local surfers opted to watch from shore as Ryan and I feverishly paddled against the current conspiring to…
“Now news came to Hithlum that Dorthonion was lost and the sons of Finarfin overthrown, and that the sons of Fëanor were driven from their lands. Then Fingolfin beheld (as it seemed to him) the utter ruin of the Noldor, and the defeat beyond redress of all their houses; and filled with wrath and despair he mounted Rochallor his great horse and rode forth alone, and none might restrain...
“For Fëanor was made the mightiest in all parts of body and mind: in valour, in endurance, in beauty, in understanding, in skill, in strength and subtlety alike: of all the Children of Ilúvatar, and a bright flame was in him.“― The Silmarillion, Of the Sun and Moon and the Hiding of Valinor
You must carry on / Like hurt has never touched you / Or like gravity is still...– Chris Emslie, (via mirroir)
poetbabble: all my old inborn daring returned, furious to reverse the unjust triumph of the world’s mere arrangements of power, that seemingly on earth cannot be reversed. - Frank Bidart, from The Third Hour of the Night
You shall not twist my bones into a star’s shape, nor plant my hair as roots...– from “Noli Me Tangere” by Lisel Mueller (via mirroir)