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@citrusquotes
“If you feel sad for no reason, embrace the reasonless spontaneity of your sadness! In the first light of morning, when you hear a bird singing her spontaneous song, you’re not pushing for ‘reasons’. Sadness does not arise to be healed. It arises to be heard. It arises to be held, here, in the loving arms of awareness.”
— Jeff Foster (via abiding-in-peace)
“Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.”
— Washington Irving (born on this day in 1783)
“I’m not dead. I sleep sometimes. Sleep comes very close to death, everyone knows that. The dead walk in dreams, everyone knows that. They come to you alive, and they say things. They walk out of death into the dreams. There’s a way. And if you go on far enough there’s a way back all the way. All the way. You can find it if you know where to look.”
— Ursula K. Le Guin, The Farthest Shore (via lovetann)
Glimpses of strangers, saved as gestures, turns of head–people through a window or a door (Kafka’s window or door!) A glimmer arises for me of that sense of “realization” I study and crave and so seldom can actually feel flame up in my life–the deepest understanding that ANOTHER PERSON LIVED. I mean so lived as I do, the feeling so deep it’s free of tense–we fail to believe in (“realize”) those around us in the present as absolutely as we do anyone in history. So when I say these glimpses turn now and then to realization in me, the equivalent is out of time: “this person is alive” (not only “this person was alive”)’ and even “I am alive” (a sentence in which every word means the same thing). This last realization, the sudden shuddering understanding “I am alive” is so foregone we leave it till the last: it is achieved better the nearer we are to death. “I am alive” can most honestly be said when it’s about to be untrue.
Heather McHugh, The Poet’s Notebook: Excerpts from the Notebooks of Contemporary American Poets (via heteroglossia)
You will never be able to experience everything. So, please, do poetical justice to your soul and simply experience yourself.
Albert Camus
Read More on wordsnquotes
(via wnq-writers)
When I look at my life and its secret colours, I feel like bursting into tears.
Albert Camus, A Happy Death (via goodreadss)
The human brain cannot encompass total absence. Like infinity, it is simply not something that the organ runs to. The space someone leaves must be filled, so we dream forever of those who are no longer here. Our minds make them live again.
Anna Funder, All That I Am (via theglasschild)
You can always shelter another star, while there’s a sole sky I can adorn.
ninthconstant (via wnq-writers)
Perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone there to see us existing, we cannot properly speak until there is someone who can understand what we are saying in essence, we are not wholly alive until we are loved.
Alain de Botton, Essays in Love (via wordsnquotes)
We do not know why we love a person; we love for no reason. One cannot love a man for his merits; and in this respect love is like grace which is given freely, no for merits, for nothing. Love is a gracious radiating energy.
Nikolai Berdyaev, The Destiny of Man (via wordsnquotes)
My God, my God, whose performance am I watching? How many people am I? Who am I? What is this space between myself and myself?
Fernando Pessoa, from The Book of Disquiet (via horaetio)
My strength is not measured by the burdens I carry alone, nor by my silent struggles. Rather, it is measured in the joys I share, the hardships I seek assistance with, the tears I cry for others, and the nights I keep speaking with those who are dear to me, aiding them and receiving aid in return. My strength is not in being able to go it alone- but in recognizing I need help and friendship and then seeking it out.
serenepanic (via wnq-writers)
To define something is to subordinate it to a tangle of intellectual relationships. And when you do that you destroy real understanding.
Robert M. Pirsig, Lila (via quotespile)
Life has no meaning the moment you lose the illusion of being eternal.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness (via philosophybits)
Write swiftly with no preconceived subject, swiftly enough that you cannot retain it, and are not tempted to re-read. Continue for as long as you wish. Trust in the inexhaustible nature of that murmuring.
André Breton, from “Manifestoes of Surrealism,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
I want to infect you with the tremendous excitement of living, because I believe that you have the strength to bear it.
Tennessee Williams, The Selected Letters: 1920-1945 (via wordsnquotes)
I am fragile and unholy. Open. Ravage. Eat.
Tanaka Mhishi, Literary Sexts II (via thelovejournals)
