spring

at home in istanbul and scotland, currently immersed in theatre and writing

[pairedaeza]

But art and love are a matter of mouths open in cinnabar, of blackness and redness turned to velvet by assiduous grinding, of understanding the colours that benefit from being rubbed softly one into the other: the least that the practice will make you is skilful: beyond which there’s originality itself, which is what practice is really about in the end. Ali Smith, from How To Be Both

[soracities]

Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do.

William Shakespeare, As You Like It (via soracities)

[biladal-sham]

IRAN. Tehran. Valiasr Avenue. 10/11-2003. Thomas Dworzak.

[xshayarsha]

Samson and Delilah, 1887 (detail) José Echenagusía.

[nemophilies-deactivated20190428]

“I do not hear the scream, […] I am the scream. “  —  Edmond Jabès, From the Book to the Book “I didn’t seek; I was the search.”  — Hélène Cixous, from Coming to Writing and Other Essays “I am not in the flame, I am the flame.”  — Diane di Prima, from Canticle of St. Joan

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

She lives on a moor in the north. She lives alone. Spring opens like a blade there.

Anne Carson, from The Glass Essay; She  (via sempiternele)

[ourwakingsoules-deactivated2019]

Elizabeth Marshall, Borderline Girlhoods: Mental Illness, Adolescence, and Femininity in Girl, Interrupted

[aleworldaddict]

‘Wuthering Heights’  Alexandra Elizabeth and Julia Banas by Yelena Yemchuk for Vogue China October 2016

[piakristinecruz]

[lachantefleurie]

“After an impression of the night before, I wake up softened by a happy though: “X was adorable last night.” This is the memory of…what? Of what the Greeks called charis: ‘the sparkle of the eyes, the body’s luminous beauty, the radiance of the desirable being”

Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse (via soracities)

[observando]

Feel it. The thing that you don’t want to feel. Feel it, and be free.

Nayyirah Waheed (via observando)

[blazeofgold-deactivated20190921]

To say that the world is not worth anything, that this life is of no value and to give evil as the proof is absurd, for if these things are worthless what does evil take from us?

Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace (via brittleglory)

[theclassicsreader]

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

T.S. Eliot from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (via theclassicsreader)

[head-home]

Winged Victory of Samothrace, the Louvre, Paris.

[andantegrazioso-deactivated2018]

Brightened by the exercise | Pride and Prejudice

[boykeats]

Anne Carson, from The Fall of Rome: A Traveller’s Guide

[proustitute]

I think here I will leave you. It has come to seem there is no perfect ending. Indeed, there are infinite endings. Or perhaps, once one begins, there are only endings.

Louise Glück, Faithful and Virtuous Night (via proustitute)