Beautiful Snow

don't know where I'm going, but I'll get there someday.

[metamorphesque]

 ― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

[text ID: In the deepening spring of May, I had no choice but to recognize the trembling of my heart.]

[lustingupon]

@christietyler

[growaglow]

@brizzyrose

[metamorphesque]

— Louise Glück, Vita Nova

[text ID: Surely spring has been returned to me, this time / not as a lover but a messenger of death, yet / it is still spring, it is still meant tenderly.]

[weltenwellen]

Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score

[mikeahrens]

[metamorphesque]

— Warsan Shire, Home

[text ID: Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women; kitchen of lust, / bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. / Sometimes the men - they come with keys, / and sometimes, the men - they come with hammers.]

[annafridacharlotte]

Tilas Stoll, abandoned mine in Värmland, Sweden.

[weltenwellen]

Adonis, tr. by Khaled Mattawa, Selected Poems

[feral-ballad]

Pedro Salinas, tr. by Ruth Katz Crispin, from Memory in My Hands: The Love Poetry of Pedro Salinas; “The voice I owe to you”

[quotemadness]

“The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward.”

— Steve Maraboli

[poeticpicturism]

[surqrised]

“I think you lost all interest in this world. You were disappointed and discouraged, and lost interest in everything. So you abandoned your physical body. You went to a world apart and you’re living a different kind of life there. In a world inside you.”

— Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

[thoughtkick]

“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.”

— Maya Angelou

[thoughtkick]

“When you’re too close to people, when you spend too much time with them and love them too dearly, sometimes you can’t see them.”

— Tana French

[thoughtkick]

“It is true that I miss intelligent companionship, but there are so few with whom I can share the things that mean so much to me that I have learned to contain myself. It is enough that I am surrounded with beauty.”

— Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

[franzkavkas]

May 22nd, 1912

Franz Kafka, Diaries (1910-1923)