Paul Auster, The Brooklyn Follies
NASA

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@booklover
Paul Auster, The Brooklyn Follies
𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟼, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟸 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶-𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹
June 6, 1914 Letters to Felice by Franz Kafka First published : 1973
Things don't have purposes, as if the universe were a machine, where every part has a useful function. What's the function of a galaxy? I don't know if our life has a purpose and I don't see that it matters. What does matter is that we're a part. Like a thread in a cloth or a grass-blade in a field. It is and we are. What we do is like wind blowing on the grass.
–Ursula K. Le Guin, The Lathe of Heaven
really into this type of book cover
Decluttering, 2015
Used Book Café , Study I - Chloe Chlumecky , 2025
Canadian , b. 1999 -
Oil , 16 x 20 in.
But I do feel strange—almost unearthly. I’ll never get used to being alive. It's a mystery. Always startled to find I've survived.
John Steinbeck, Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters
“At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon.”
— Edgar Allan Poe
instagram | photos are my own, reblogs fine, do not repost/reuse
Iris Murdoch, The Italian Girl
— Marjane Satrapi, Persepolis
“The daily routine of most adults is so heavy and artificial that we are closed off to much of the world. We have to do this in order to get our work done. I think one purpose of art is to get us out of those routines. When we hear music or poetry or stories, the world opens up again. We’re drawn in — or out — and the windows of our perception are cleansed, as William Blake said. The same thing can happen when we’re around young children or adults who have unlearned those habits of shutting the world out.”
— Ursula K. Le Guin
ig credit: _litterascriptamanet
María Casares, from a letter to Albert Camus, featured in Correspondance, 1944-1959
"This gorgeous green, / this searing lilac, / this heart that is nothing but mystery.”
— Alejandra Pizarnik, “Poem 9″, Diana’s Tree (trans. Yvette Siegert).