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Thoughts about ..

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Mahmoud Darwish, from Almond Blossoms and Beyond; “I Sit At Home,”

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“I have so much I want to give and share.”

— Sylvia Plath, from a journal entry featured in “The Unabridged Journals,”

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“Actually, just being there is enough, and looking peaceful, and wanting to go slowly.”

— Edith Marcombe Shiffert, from New & Selected Poems; “Manners,”

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“Silence. A summer-night silence which lay for a thousand miles, which covered the earth like a white and shadowy sea.”

— Ray Bradbury, from Dandelion Wine (via lochiels)

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“…a state of gloomy self-suppression which resulted in complete apathy.”

— Virginia Woolf, from The Complete Works of Virginia Woolf; “Night and Day,”

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“Every day that went by was like a prison. The wait ate up my insides.”

— Dacia Maraini, tr. by Tim Vode, from “Dreams of Clytemnestra,” wr. c. 1994

[stinkybeetroot]

“… we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.”

— Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (via macrolit)

[purplebuddhaquotes]

“And I knew it. That’s the worst part: I knew it.”

— Marguerite Duras

[metaphorformetaphor]

“And a huge, heavy silence.”

— Maja Lunde, from The History of Bees (Touchstone, 2017)

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“I’d bite myself and take out my feelings with my teeth.”

— Dacia Maraini, tr. by Tim Vode, from “Dreams of Clytemnestra,” wr. c. 1994

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“I remember, I remember I was the interloper who knows both love and fear, who comes near and draws back, who feels nothing beyond the need to touch, to handle, to dismantle it,”

— Eavan Boland, from New and Collected Poems of E. B.: “I Remember,”

[lifeinpoetry]

“Every time depression threatens to throttle me, I think of my own body as a bunker — a dry, airtight space where grief feels so safe, it never wants to leave.”

— Scherezade Siobhan, from “Bomb Shelter,” published in Glass

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“A starving wolf in my soul,”

— Dacia Maraini, tr. by Tim Vode, from “Dreams of Clytemnestra,” wr. c. 1994

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“Who can ever guess that I have a dead heart inside of me?”

— Maria Polydouri, tr. by Manolis Aligizakis, from “A Cold Breath Froze,”

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“Every feeling I have is crushed and bruised,”

— Juliette Drouet, from a letter to Victor Hugo written c. February 1833

[elle-may]

“I am sitting on my bed. A storm is coming, appropriately. A storm is always appropriate.”

— Franz Kafka, from a diary entry written c. December 1919, featured in Diaries, 1910-1923 (via violentwavesofemotion)

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“I opened my mouth, and it was nothing nothing nothing words until it wasn’t nothing anymore,”

— Lidia Yuknavitch, from “The Chronology of Water: A Memoir,” wr. c. 2011