tu resteras hyène, etc...

[love]

via weheartit

[11-9n]

Duras, Writing

[radicalanarchism]

The struggle may be a moral one, or it may be a physical one, or it may be both. But it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.

Frederick Douglass (via moralanarchism)

[shantisheaan]

[partydrugs]

[aestheticacadema]

[goodreadss]

A 14-frame clip showing the atmosphere of Jupiter as viewed from the NASA probe Cassini. Taken over a span of 24 Jupiter rotations between October 31 and November 9, 2000, this clip shows various patterns of motion across the planet. The Great Red Spot rotates counterclockwise, and the uneven distribution of its high haze is obvious. To the east (right) of the Red Spot, oval storms, like ball bearings, roll over and pass each other. East-west bands adjacent to each other move at different rates. Strings of small storms rotate around northern-hemisphere ovals. The large grayish-blue “hot spots” at the northern edge of the white Equatorial Zone change over time as they proceed eastward across the planet. Ovals in the north rotate counter to those in the south. Small, very bright features appear quickly and randomly in turbulent regions, possibly lightning storms. The smallest visible features at the equator are about 600 km (370 miles) across.

Animation: NASA/JPL/University of Arizona

[adrasteiax]

The wind had eaten away parts of my face and my hands. They called me ragged angel. I lay waiting.

Alejandra Pizarnik, from Dispatches in “Extracting The Stone Of Madness: Poems 1962-1972″ (via adrasteiax)

[autumnalsonata-deactivated20190]

Like the sea with the moon drowning inside it.

Vicente Huidobro, from The Selected Poems (1893-1948): “She”  (via autumnalsonata)

[finita--la--commedia]

We have not long to love. A night. A day….

Tennessee Williams, from “We Have Not Long to Love” (via finita--la--commedia)

[finita--la--commedia]

She kissed me often, as if she feared an imminent departure … Her affections were restless, nervous.                                                                                       I didn’t understand such feverish haste. My coarse intention never saw very far … She foresaw !

Amado Nervo (1870-1919), from “She kissed me often” (1912), translated from the Spanish by Dave Bonta   (via finita--la--commedia)

[astrosoeur]

verlaine for the signs

Aries: “My dream pursues through all the vain delays, Impatient of the weeks, mad at the days.” Taurus: “An infinite resignedness rains where the white mists opalesce, in the moon-shower…” Gemini: “Take eloquence and wring its neck.” Cancer: ”Tears are shed in my heart like the rain on the town.” Leo: “I am the Empire at the end of the decadence.” Virgo: “Tired of life, afraid of death, not unlike a lost brig, toy of ebb and flow on the ocean, my soul weighs anchor for a frightful shipwreck.” Libra: ”Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair, peopled with maskers delicate and dim, That play on lutes and dance and have an air of being sad in their fantastic trim.” Scorpio: “I always fear,–if you but knew!– From your dear hand some killing blow.” Sagittarius: ”A vast black sleep falls over my life, sleep, all hope, sleep, all desire.” Capricorn: “What we need, we, is fixedness intense, Unequalled effort, strife that shall not cease.” Aquarius: “Melancholy rocks my heart to oblivion, with sweet melody, amid setting suns.” Pisces: ”Colour’s forbidden, only Nuance!”

[macrolit]

Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.

William Blake (b. 28 November 1757)

[adrasteiax]

The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams.

Louise Glück, from Child Crying Out in “Poems 1962-2012″ (via adrasteiax)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

And the heart, of course, that swallows the tides and spits them out cleansed.

Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems; “The Earth,” written. c. July 1973 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[schuylerpeck]

I have so much love in this body and not a clue what to do with it. I want to hand it out like pamphlets on the New York City sidewalk. Everyone gets a slice.

Schuyler Peck

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

The infinite rush for invisible splendors, intangible delights—

Arthur Rimbaud, from Poems & Prose; “Bargains Sold,” wr. c. 1878 (via violentwavesofemotion)