mushroom shaped god @cherubofsyrup-blog - Tumblr Blog

It is a return, always, to the forces that shaped me. These forces I have swallowed like knives.

Kate Zambreno, from Book of Mutter (via luthienne)

Is this the Virgin Mary in the garden, her blue gown bleached off by too much sky? (Look how the world has bled me dry.)

— Laura Kasischke, from “Faded Snapshot,” published in The Journal

luthienne

A dense veil isolated me from the world and, without my knowing it, an abyss separated me from myself.

Clarice Lispector, from Complete Stories; “Obsession” (via luthienne)

goodreadss

— I’m in pain all the time. — Where? — Inside. I can’t explain it.

Clarice Lispector, The Hour Of The Star (via goodreadss)

ordocarmelitarum

You know, Mother, that I have always wanted to be become a saint. Unfortunately when I have compared myself with the saints, I have always found that there is the same difference between the saints and me as there is between a mountain whose summit is lost in the clouds and a humble grain of sand trodden underfoot by passersby. Instead of being discouraged, I told myself: God would not make me wish for something impossible and so, in spite of my littleness, I can aim at being a saint. It is impossible for me to grow bigger, so I put up with myself as I am, with all my countless faults. But I will look for some means of going to heaven by a little way which is very short and very straight, a little way that is quite new[…] It is your arms, Jesus, which are the lift to carry me to heaven, And so there is no need for me to grow up. In fact, just the opposite: I must stay little and become less and less.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux, The Story of a Soul. (New York: Double Day, 2001), 113. (via ordocarmelitarum)

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