wrimwramwrom:

Walkabout (Nicolas Roeg)

(via soracities)

antigonick:

“You love literature too much, she will kill you—”

—

George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert, from George Sand, Gustave Flaubert : Correspondance (my translation)

Source — Tu aimes trop la littérature, elle te tuera—

lifeinpoetry:

In general, I am the life
of the party. And it’s always the eve of battle.
In general, I am hard and quiet. Like a floorboard
from a tree long gone. Like a floorboard
sanded down, shellacked, hammered in a house
no one lives in anymore.

— Bianca Stone, from “The Lit Club Slaughter,” The Möbius Strip Club of Grief

(Source: lifeinpoetry)

violentwavesofemotion:

“Maybe I just developed a bad case of paranoia which in the next thousand years may be understood by all the people everywhere who can understand how it feels to be lonely and afraid when there is no place of emotion.”

— Nikki Giovanni, from “Letter to a Bourgeois Friend Whom Once I Loved,”

violentwavesofemotion:

“She waved her hand at the trees standing bare in the clear light of January.”

— Virginia Woolf, from The Complete Works; “Between the Acts,” c. 1941

soracities:

“All I want is silence, for myself and for the selves I used to be.”

— Alejandra Pizarnik, from ‘Extracting the Stone of Madness’, Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962-1972 (trans. Yvette Siegert)

adrasteiax:

“Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,”

— Anne Sexton, from The Poet Of Ignorance in “The Complete Poems Of Anne Sexton”

violentwavesofemotion:

“But a nose kiss wasn’t what he wanted. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦? That’s what he’d like to ask. But he doesn’t dare ask, because he’s almost certain she would laugh.”

— Margaret Atwood, from “I’m Starved For You,” published c. March 2012

violentwavesofemotion:

“Chilly January. She gave herself to the dark waves,”

— Bertolt Brecht, from Poems: 1913-1958; “The Legend of the Harlot Evelyn Roe,”

uneliiv:

“I remain as vulnerable as ever.”

— Nina Cassian, from “Tirade for the Next-to-Last-Act,” wr. c. June 1969
(via sussural)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

dexolation:

“As for myself, I had a lot to say. But I was silent.”

— Albert Camus, from Youthful Writings; “Intuitions,” wr. c. 1932

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via mirayama)

violentwavesofemotion:

“Nothing reconciles me; I am alive in your abominable night;”

— Paul Claudel, from The Selected Writings; “I Raise my Hands in Despair,”

violentwavesofemotion:

“The moon pours a stream of glitter / Into the depths of my soul.”

— Juan Ramón Jiménez, tr by Robert Bly, from “Nocturne,” wr. c. 1903