November 2011
“…No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any...”
– Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness (via liquidnight)
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“I endure from moment to
moment -
days pass all alike,
tortured, intense.”
– H.D., from “The Gift”
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“The novelist works neither to correct nor to condone, not at all to comfort, but...”
– Eudora Welty, from On Writing
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“Fiction shows us the past as well as the present moment in mortal light; it is...”
– Eudora Welty, from On Writing
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acandleandawick:
Vanessa Bell / Portrait of...
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“For the time, her own body was the source of all the life in the world, which...”
– Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
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“What better occupation, really, than to spend the evening at the fireside with a...”
– Gustave Flaubert (via whiskey river)
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“If what’s always distinguished bad writing—flat characters, a narrative world...”
– David Foster Wallace, interview with Dalkey Archive Press (via trenchantashell)
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“For what can one know even of the people one lives with every day? she asked....”
– Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway
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“My mother sits befuddled at her telephone,
uncertain who she means to call
or...”
– Bruce Bond, “Horn”
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“She sat perfectly still, listening and looking always at the same spot. It...”
– Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
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“The late evening is the time of times. Then with that unearthly beauty before...”
– Katherine Mansfield, from her Notebooks (via katherine-mansfield)
other places where you can find me:
Twitter — I’d definitely love to connect with some of you and chat about literature and other things in real time!
Goodreads
Last.fm
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acandleandawick:
Vita Sackille-West discusses...
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“Sometimes I dream a sentence and write it down. It’s usually nonsense, but...”
– Anne Carson (via davidbarrie)
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“Between silent lines
the unspoken word
in empty space
luminescent”
– Rose Auslander, from “In Memoriam Paul Celan” (translated by Julia Samwer)
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“I think of you often. Especially in the evenings, when I am on the balcony and...”
– Katherine Mansfield, from a letter to Elizabeth, Countess Russell, 16 October 1921 (via katherine-mansfield)
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“Listen…
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves,...”
– Adelaide Crapsey, “November Night” (via bookoasis)
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“I am no longer coded and deciphered. I am all emptiness and futility. I am an...”
– David Wojnarowicz
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“I cannot tell if the day
is ending, or the world, or if
the secret of secrets...”
– Anna Akhmatova, from “A land not mine, still” (translated by Jane Kenyon)
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“the world
lives in the death of speech
and sings there.”
– Wendell Berry, from “The Silence”
“A stone thrown into a silent lake
is—the sound of your name.
The light click...”
– Marina Tsvetaeva, from “Poems for Blok, 1,” trans. Ilya Kaminsky and Jean Valentine (via proustitute)
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“What you might have told me
I will never know—the lips went still,
the body...”
– William Stafford, from “A Memorial: Son Bret”
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“Brutal to give
the prisoner a window—
a blue sky glimpse—
as if an afterlife...”
– Andrea Cohen, “Brutal” (via proustitute)
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“Death is the mother of beauty.”
– Wallace Stevens, from “Sunday Morning”
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“There was the terror; the overwhelming incapacity, one’s parents giving it...”
– Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway 