By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me. I sizzled in his blue volts...– The Hanging Man, Sylvia Plath (via aplathaday)
The Great Gatsby Breaks My Heart by Dorothy Doyle...
earlyfrost: It isn’t the way he stares over the black satin sound nor his unshakable belief in the dock light. I thought it was the impossible way he loves her, but it isn’t that either; we all know she was built only of silver and gold. It’s the pool, his blood in the water, thin circle of red against the current; the moment there isn’t any green left, that’s when I break. (via bunnymitford)
I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide or...– Billy Collins, “Introduction to Poetry” (via proustitute)
How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by...– Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via proustitute)
Beauty dies: that is the source of creation– Louise Gluck, Hyacinth
A poem is a secret shared by people who have never met each other.– Charles Simic, excerpt from “Where is Poetry Going?”, New York Review of Books (via aperfectcommotion)
The heart of another is a dark forest.– Willa Cather (via aperfectcommotion)
Her eyes in the half-light suggested night and violets, and for a moment he had...– The Beautiful and Damned, F. Scott Fitzgerald (via fuckyeahfitzgerald)
You see I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there...– F. Scott Fitzgerald (via fuckyeahfitzgerald)
Write hard and clear about what hurts.– Ernest Hemingway (via mer-et-soleil)
For I am writing and you are the wound.– -Edmond Jabès, The Book of Questions: Volume I [The Book of Yukel, Return to the Book], translated by Rosmarie Waldrop, p. 33 (via aperfectcommotion)
goodpoetry: in the sun and in the rain and in the day and in the night pain is a flower pain is flowers blooming all the time. Charles Bukowski
Time Does Not Bring Relief
goodpoetry: Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountain-side, And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane; But last year’s bitter loving must remain Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide. There are a hundred places where I...
more fully, since snow fell even on this sun-drifted, sun-drenched sea,...– Paul Celan, “This Evening Also” (via proustitute)
We use words to understand each other and even, sometimes, to find each other.– José Saramago (via aperfectcommotion)
The Great Gatsby Video Game!
fuckyeahfitzgerald: http://greatgatsbygame.com/ I played it! It’s fun!
At least I have the flowers of myself, and my thoughts, no god can take that;...– from Eurydice, by HD
We are here to laugh at the odds, and live our lives so well that Death will...– Charles Bukowski (via trenchantashell)
In a murderous time the heart breaks and breaks and lives by breaking. .– Stanley Kunitz, The Testing-Tree
hunterbs-deactivated20120207 asked: Did you enjoy To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf? I have to write a book report about it.
All great and precious things are lonely.– John Steinbeck (via fingertipsacrossmyskin)
aperfectcommotion: “This is the Hour of Lead— Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow— First—Chill—then Stupor—then the letting go” Emily Dickinson, an excerpt from “After Great Pain”
Sylvia Plath reading “A Birthday...
The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The...– Edge, Sylvia Plath (The last complete poem she wrote)
lovingsylvia: for Sylvia Plath O Sylvia, Sylvia, with a dead box of stones and spoons, with two children, two meteors wandering loose in a tiny playroom, with your mouth into the sheet, into the roofbeam, into the dumb prayer, (Sylvia, Sylvia where did you go after you wrote me from Devonshire about rasing potatoes and keeping bees?) what did you stand by, just how did you lie...
riverlust: 1 We slipped steadily through the broken forest toward the heron’s silhouette. When we were close, almost touching, it shrugged and launched itself on wings so huge they seemed a burden. We feathered our oars and let the current carry us. That water was so calm we felt we were dead, our faces slightly blurred by the breeze, by happiness. It all happened in...
I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft,...– Elm, Sylvia Plath (via aplathaday)
Waiting for Icarus by Muriel Rukeyser
He said he would be back and we’d drink wine together He said that everything would be better than before He said we were on the edge of a new relation He said he would never again cringe before his father He said that he was going to invent full-time He said he loved me that going into me He said was going into the world and the sky He said all the buckles were very firm He said the wax was...
Most experiences are unsayable; they come to fullness in a realm that words do...– Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, Paris, February 17, 1903 (via aperfectcommotion)
If there is a magic in story writing, and I am convinced that there is, no one...– John Steinbeck
It has been a good day of work with no harm in it. I have sat long over the desk...– John Steinbeck
To finish is sadness to a writer—a little death. He puts the last word down and...– John Steinbeck
Time Magazine's All Time 100 Novels →
I know lists like these are so arbitrary, but I always find it interesting to see which books get chosen and which ones get left out.
In every bit of honest writing in the world there is a base theme. Try to...– John Steinbeck