thermonous:

“How many centuries deep is your wound?”

— Adonis,  “Unintended Worship,” If Only the Sea Could Sleep 
(via portails)

(Source: wordsnquotes.com)

theclivechronicles:

“You would think the year was resting too, its work done. And I whispered to myself that I too would begin to rest.”

— Till We Have Faces // C.S. Lewis

(via theclivechronicles)

pretttyneat:

If we could witness a child’s moments of comfort, curiosity, exploration, and reward— and his moments of terror, humiliation, and deprivation— we would know so much more about him, who he is and who he is likely to become. The brain is a historical organ, a reflection of our personal histories. Our genetic gifts will only manifest themselves if we get the proper types of developmental experience, appropriately times. Early in life these experiences are controlled primarily by the adults around us.

Bruce Perry

lifeinpoetry:

“As a girl, I waited patiently to catch fire, / as if it were something worth wanting.”

— Sally Wen Mao, from “The Guadalupe Slough,” published in The Southeast Review

(Source: southeastreview.org)

lifeinpoetry:

Say the girl

ran from the ruin.
                         Say the girl was the ruin.

— Kristene Kaye Brown, from “The Small Town’s Unwanted Daughter,” published in Nashville Review

(Source: wp0.vanderbilt.edu, via thermonous)

thatkindofwoman:

“I want to raise up the magic world all round me and live strongly and quietly there.”

— Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry written c. February 1934
(via violentwavesofemotion)

thelovenotebook:

“I can love things just by watching her love them. That is how I know, that I love her.”

— Christopher Poindexter (via thelovenotebook)

(via margaret-therese)

(Source: ive-got-to-moveit-moveit, via margaret-therese)

swan-blooded:

“…do you believe in freedom?—then say what you want, it’s poetry, poetry all of it is poetry, great prose is poetry, great verse is poetry.”

— The Subterraneans, Jack Kerouac (via existential-celestial)

(via thermonous)

kafkova:

“It’s not that students don’t “get” Kafka’s humor but that we’ve taught them to see humor as something you get—the same way we’ve taught them that a self is something you just have. No wonder they cannot appreciate the really central Kafka joke: that the horrific struggle to establish a human self results in a self whose humanity is inseparable from that horrific struggle. That our endless and impossible journey toward home is in fact our home.”

— David Foster Wallace, ‘Some Remarks on Kafka’s Funniness From Which Probably Not Enough Has Been Removed’ in Consider the Lobster (via cgrehan)

(Source: unencumberedbylogic, via twobeforejune)

wellreadwoman:

“To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.”

— Eros: The Bittersweet, Anne Carson.
(via kuanios)

(Source: kuanios, via thermonous)

swan-blooded:

“But the song of water is a thing eternal.”

— Federico García Lorca, Collected Poems
(via oiseauperdu)

(Source: theperfumemaker, via thermonous)

lifeinpoetry:

“maybe I mistake the violence for home”

— Julian Randall, from “Leslie Odom Jr. Sings Obama’s Anger on NPR” published in The Adroit Journal

(Source: theadroitjournal.org)