December 2011
3 tags
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)
Poetry is my understanding with the world, my intimacy with things, my...
– Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen
How well I know that rapture that comes sometimes when one is alone. I think...
– Katherine Mansfield, from a letter to Ottoline Morrell, 27 December 1921 (via katherine-mansfield)
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I’m moved by everything broken and crippled. Since that’s how we really are.
– Anna Kamienska, from In That Great River: A Notebook (translated by Clare Cavanagh)
You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves...
– Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (via weelittleactress)
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I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root;
It is what you...
– Sylvia Plath, from “Elm”
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Widow, the compassionate trees bend in,
The trees of loneliness, the trees of...
– Sylvia Plath, from “Widow”
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Winter is for women—
The woman, still at her knitting,
At the cradle of...
– Sylvia Plath, from “Wintering”
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Very gently and quietly, almost as if it were the blood singing in her veins, or...
– Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out. (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
So we turn back through the forest, walk among trees with long blue needles....
– Tomas Tranströmer, from “Molokai” in The Great Enigma, trans. Robin Fulton (via proustitute)
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We’re suspended for a moment on this spinning blue pearl, here together...
– Maria Bustillos, Inside David Foster Wallace’s Private Self-Help Library
How easily our loved ones
leave us, speeding into sunsets,
maiming us with...
– Larissa Szporluk, from “Sea Lettuce” (via ahuntersheart)
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She did not want to go to work, although she was very late; and so she remained...
– James Alan McPherson, Hue and Cry (via underthechinaberrytree)
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Even a map cannot show you
the way back to a place
that no longer exists.
– Sandra M. Castillo, from “Christmas, 1970” (via risky wiver)
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Earth dropped on the coffin; three pebbles fell on the hard shiny surface; and...
– Virginia Woolf, The Years
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It is not your memories which haunt you.
It is not what you have written down....
– James Fenton, from “A German Requiem”
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drowned-in-the-inkwell asked: hey! first of all I'd like to mention that I enjoy your blog a lot :> and second, what are your favorite books? or what books would you recommend?
3 tags
Still you are here, as silence
gathers like birds in the trees around you.
You...
– Leon Weinmann, from “Broken Ground”
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In the end, everything is found to be wanting.
– Frank Lentricchia, The Sadness of Antonioni
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At least I have the flowers of myself,
and my thoughts, no god
can take that;...
– H.D., from “Eurydice”
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What will survive of us is love.
– Philip Larkin, from “An Arundel Tomb”
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It is hard
in the radiance of this world to live
but we live.
– Campbell McGrath, from “Storm Valediction”
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Death is nature’s way
of telling you to be quiet.
Of saying it’s...
– Franz Wright, “Translation”
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It is very cold
walking into the long scraped April wind.
At this time of year...
– Anne Carson, from “The Glass Essay”
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I wanted
the past to go away, I wanted
to leave it, like another country; I...
– Mary Oliver, from “Dogfish” in Dream Work (via proustitute)
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Between grief and nothing, I will take grief.
– William Faulkner, from The Wild Palms
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I stand on the threshold
under the street lamp, one side
of my body covered...
– Sarah Stern, from “The Owl” (via proustitute)
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First you hear the words
and they are like all other words,
ordinary,...
– Ruth Stone, from “The Wound” (via proustitute)
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Let all be simple. Let all stand still
Without a final direction.
That which...
– Charles Simic, from “Evening”
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There is almost nothing that does not signal loneliness,
then loveliness, then...
– Stanley Plumly, from “In Passing” (via proustitute)
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The dreamer isn’t lonely. Not when, like van Gogh, he has reached that...
– H.D., Vincent Van Gogh