Hi! Do you have any quotes for women loving women/lesbians 🥺❤️ thank you so much!! 💞💓💗❣️💝💕
Virginia Woolf & Vita Sackville-West:
“Look here Vita — throw over your man, and we’ll go to Hampton Court and dine on the river together and walk in the garden in the moonlight and come home late and have a bottle of wine and get tipsy, and I’ll tell you all the things I have in my head, millions, myriads — They won’t stir by day, only by dark on the river. Think of that. Throw over your man, I say, and come.” (Virginia Woolf)
“…I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it should lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is really just a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any more by giving myself away like this — But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defenses. And I don’t really resent it.” (Vita Sackville-West)
“Yes yes yes I do like you. I am afraid to write the stronger word.” (Virginia Woolf)
“Dear Mrs Woolf,(That appears to be the suitable formula.) I regret that you have been in bed, though not with me–(a less suitable formula).” (Vita Sackville-West)
“Goodnight now. I am so sleepy — I feel like a moth, with heavy scarlet eyes and a soft cape of down — a moth about to settle in a sweet bush … Would it were — ah, but that’s improper.” (Virginia Woolf)
“God, I do love you. You say I use no endearments. That strikes me as funny. When I wake up in the Persian dawn, and say to myself ‘Virginia…Virginia…” (Vita Sackville-West)
“Do you remember a night when I came along the dark passage to your room in a thunderstorm and we lay talking about whether we were afraid of death or not? That is the sort of occasion on which the things I want to say to you,–and to you only,–get said.” (Virginia Woolf)
“All this summer I was as nervous as a cat,–starting, dreaming, brooding,–now I’m all vigorous and sturdy again, and ravenous for life once more. My dearest, I do love you. I do bless you for all you’ve been to me. This is not a joke, but a very sober truth.” (Vita Sackville-West)
“I always have such need to merely talk to you. Even when I have nothing to talk about – with you I just seem to go right ahead and sort of invent it. I invent it for you. Because I never seem to run out of tenderness for you and because I need to feel you near. Excuse the bad writing and excuse the emotional overflow. What I mean to say, perhaps, is that, in a way, I am never empty of you; not for a moment, an instant, a single second.” (Virginia Woolf)
“Please, in all this muddle of life, continue to be a bright and constant star. Just a few things remain as beacons: poetry, and you, and solitude.” (Vita Sackville-West)
Violet Trefusis to Vita Sackville-West:
“I want you. I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it. Not only the physical you, but your fellowship, your sympathy, the innumerable points of view we share. I can’t exist without you, you are my affinity…I want you for my own, I want to go away with you. I must and will and damn the world and damn the consequences and anyone had better look out for themselves who dares to become an obstacle in my path.”
“When I think of your mouth…When I think of … other things, all the blood rushes to my head and I can almost imagine…“
“ I want you every second and every hour of the day. Sometimes I am flooded by an agony of physical longing for you; a craving for your nearness and your touch. At other times I feel I should be quite content if I could only hear the sound of your voice. Nothing and no one in the world could kill the love I have for you. I have surrendered my whole individuality, the very essence of my being to you. I have given you my body time after time to treat as you pleased, to tear in pieces if such had been your will. All the hoardings of my imagination I have laid bare to you. There isn’t a recess in my brain into which you haven’t penetrated. I have clung to you and caressed you and slept with you and I would like to tell the whole world I clamour for you. “
“ “Sometimes, before going to sleep, by dint of desiring you, I end by feeling your body stretched out by my side, all the warmth of quivering flesh, the kisses of your mouth, and the caresses of your fingers, and I feel faint, and I’m on the point of dying.”
“I love you with all my bruised heart.”
Emily Dickinson (’Her breast is fit for pearls’):
“Her breast is fit for pearls,But I was not a “Diver” -Her brow is fit for thronesBut I have not a crestHer heart is fit for homeI - a Sparrow - build thereSweet of twigs and twineMy perennial nest.”
Katherine Mansfield, Diaries:
“She enthralls, enslaves me–and her personal self–her body absolute–is my worship. I feel that to lie with my head on her breast is to feel what life can hold.”
“I drink your lips,I eat the whiteness of your hands and feet.My mouth is open,As a new jar I am empty and open.Like white water are you who fill the cup of my mouth,Like a brook of water thronged with lilies.” (‘In Excelsis’)
“When you came, you were like red wine and honey,And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.Now you are like morning bread,Smooth and pleasant.I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,But I am completely nourished.” (‘A Decade’)
Margaret Mead to Ruth Benedict:
“I hope you may often feel me near you as you did — resting so softly and sweetly in your arms. Whenever I am weary and sick with longing for you I can always go back and recapture that afternoon out at Bedford Hills this spring, when your kisses were rained down on my face, and that memory ends always in peace, beloved.”
“And all this love which you have poured out to me is very bread and wine to my direct need. Always, always I am coming back to you.I kiss your hair, sweetheart.”
“I feel immensely freed and sustained, the dark months of doubt washed away, and that I can look you gladly in the eyes as you take me in your arms. My beloved! My beautiful one. I thank God you do not try to fence me off, but trust me to take life as it comes and make something of it. With that trust of yours I can do anything — and come out with something precious saved.Sweet, I kiss your hands.”
Ali Smith, Girl Meets Boy: The Myth of Iphis:
“I had not known, before us, that every vein in my body was capable of carrying light, like a river seen from a train makes a channel of sky etch itself deep into a landscape. I had not really known I could be so much more than myself. I had not known another body could do this to mine.”
“I saw her smile so close to my eyes that there was nothing but to see but the smile, and the thought came into my head that I’d never been inside a smile before, who’d have thought being inside a smile would be so ancient and so modern both at once.”
“We step we gailied, on we went, we Mendelssohned, we epithalamioned, we raised high the roofbeams, carpenters, for there was no other bride, o bridegroom, like her.”
“Through the green quiet, the hot languor of noon,Sudden, through its cleft peace -[…]Through the beautiful Dusk; through the beautiful, blue-black hair of the Dusk,Through her beautiful parted hair -Your eyes,Kissing mine.” (’Your Eyes’)
“I should like to creepThrough the long brown grasses That are your lashes;I should like to poise On the very brinkOf leaf-brown pools That are your shadowed eyes;I should like to cleave Without sound,Their gleaming waters, their unrippled waters,I should like to sink down And down And down And deeply down.“ (’A Mona Lisa’)
“I know you are too young now to become my wife, but I hope, darling, that in a few years you will come to me and be my love, my wife! How my brain whirls how my pulse leaps with joy and madness when I think of these two words, ‘my wife'” (Grimké at age 16 to Mary P. Burril)
“Rose whose soul unfolds white petaledTouch her soul rose-white;Rose whose thoughts unfold gold petaledBlossom in her sight;Rose whose heart unfolds red petaledQuick her slow heart’s stir;Tell her white, gold, red my love is;And for her,– for her.” (’Rosabel’)
Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body:
“In the heat of her hands I thought, This is the campfire that mocks the sun.”
“There are plenty of legends about women turning into trees but are there any about trees turning into women? Is it odd to say that your lover reminds you of a tree? Well she does, it’s the way her hair fills with wind and sweeps out around her head. Very often I expect her to rustle. She doesn’t rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch. Would I had a hedge of such saplings naked and unadorned.”
“…There are so many things about us that are the same. Bone of my bone. Flesh of my flesh…The bolts of your collarbone undo me.”
“Written on the body is a secret code only visible in certain lights; the accumulations of a lifetime gather there. In places the palimpsest is so heavily worked that the letters feel like braille. I like to keep my body rolled up away from prying eyes. Never unfold too much, tell the whole story. I didn’t know that Louise would have reading hands. She has translated me into her own book.”
Carmen Maria Machado, from Her Body and Other Parties:
“Beyond the table, there is an altar, with candles lit for Billie Holiday and Willa Cather and Hypatia and Patsy Cline. Next to it, an old podium that once held a Bible, on which we have repurposed an old chemistry handbook as the Book of Lilith. In its pages is our own liturgical calendar: Saint Clementine and All Wayfarers; Saints Lorena Hickok and Eleanor Roosevelt, observed in the summer with blueberries to symbolize the sapphire ring; the Vigil of Saint Juliette, complete with mints and dark chocolate; Feast of the Poets, during which Mary Oliver is recited over beds of lettuce, Kay Ryan over a dish of vinegar and oil, Audre Lorde over cucumbers, Elizabeth Bishop over some carrots; the Exaltation of Patricia Highsmith, celebrated with escargots boiling in butter and garlic and cliffhangers recited by an autumn fire; the Ascension of Frida Kahlo with selfportraits and costumes; the Presentation of Shirley Jackson, a winter holiday started at dawn and ended at dusk with a gambling game played with lost milk teeth and stones. Some of them with their own books; the major and minor arcana of our little religion.“ (’Mothers’)
“I felt like she was seared into my time line, unchangeable as Pompeii.” (’Mothers’)
Gillian Hanscombe (’Sybil’s Pre/texts’):
“(For the heat of her thighs I cast oceans aside. For the presence of her breasts I forsake cities. For the glide of her tongue I undo dynasties)”
“Two women, eye to eyemeasuring each other’s spirit, each other’slimitless desire,a whole new poetry beginning here.” (’Transcendental Etude’)
“You’ve kissed my hairto wake me. I dreamed you were a poem,I say, a poem I wanted to show someone …and I laugh and fall dreaming againof the desire to show you to everyone I love,to move openly together.” (from ‘Twenty-One Love Poems’)
“Whatever happens with us, your bodywill haunt mine—tender, delicateyour lovemaking, like the half-curled frondof the fiddlehead fern in forestsjust washed by sun. Your traveled, generous thighsbetween which my whole face has come and come—the innocence and wisdom of the place my tongue has found there” (from ‘Twenty-One Love Poems’)
This island of Manhattan is wide enoughfor both of us, and narrow:I can hear your breath tonight, I know how your facelies upturned, the halflight tracingyour generous, delicate mouthwhere grief and laughter sleep together.” (from ‘Twenty-One Love Poems’)
“Not understanding what we celebratewe grope through languages and hesitate /and touch each other, speechless and amazed…” (’Villanelle for D.G.B.’)
“You happened to me […]You were as deep down as I’ve ever been.You were inside me like my pulse.” (’Nearly A Valediction’)
“…and then, naked, you woke me to you, brought medown on your mouth, brought it down and caught mein the gray dawn, whose sunburst was your namelike brandy in my mouth as I came and came.” (’Saturday Morning’)
“your handson my lips like thunderpromising raina land where all lovers are mute” (’Pirouette’)
“The sun is watery warmour voicesseem too loud for this small yardtoo tentative for womenso in love.” (’Walking our boundaries’)
“ you create me against your thighshilly with images moving through our word countriesmy bodywrites into your fleshthe poemyou make of me” (’Recreation’)
“And I knew when I entered her I washigh wind in her forests hollowfingers whispering soundhoney flowedfrom the split cupimpaled on a lance of tongues.” (’Love Poem’)
Marina Tsvetayeva (’Where Does This Tenderness Come From?”):
“And where does this tenderness come from?And what shall I do with it, youngsly singer, just passing by?Your lashes are–longer than anyone’s.”
“I would rather see her lovely stepand the motion of light on her facethan chariots of Lydians or ranksof footsoldiers in arms.”
“]of desire / for when I look at you / such a Hermione / and to yellowhaired Helen I liken you / among mortal women, know this / from every care / you could release me / dewy riverbanks / to last all night long”
“and lovely laughing—oh itputs the heart in my chest on wingsfor when I look at you, even a moment, no speakingis left in me“
“.. ] and beautiful times we had.For many crowns of violetsand roses]at my side you put onand many woven garlandsmade of flowersaround your soft throat.”
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