dalisay

i pace in my pen

[flowerytale]

Anaïs Nin, from the short story “Elena”, Delta of Venus (published posthumously in 1977)

[lmaonade]

hey sorry if i was offputting and strange and bizarre and weird as fuck last night i was just being myself

[petaltexturedskies]

Mary Oliver, from “Evidence: Poems”

[luthienne]

currently reading:

except for palestine: the limits of progressive politics by marc lamont hill & mitchell plitnick

palestine: a socialist introduction, ed. by sumaya awad & brian bean

on my non-fiction reading list:

the question of palestine, edward said

the hundred years’ war on palestine, rashid khalidi

palestinian identity, rashid khalidi

ten myths about israel, ilan pappé

the ethnic cleansing of palestine, ilan pappé

on palestine, noam chomsky & ilan pappé

blaming the victims: spurious scholarship and the palestinian question, ed. by edward said & christopher hitchens

the case for sanctions against israel, ed. by audrea lim

justice for some: law and the question of palestine, noura erakat

freedom is a constant struggle, angela davis

the butterfly's burden, mahmoud darwish

on my fiction reading list:

minor detail, adania shibli

enter ghost, isabella hammad

salt houses, hala alyan

men in the sun, ghassan kanafani

[mournfulroses]

Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry written c. May 1920, featured in The Diary of Virginia Woolf: Vol 2, 1920-1924

[miseducatedmelanicmuse]

[elysiumaze]

Besides: how could she tie herself to a man without allowing him to imprison her? How could she prevent him from developing his four walls over her body and soul? And was there a way to have things without those things possessing her?

Clarice Lispector in, Near to the Wild Heart.

[elysiumaze]

Why did every living thing have something to tell her? Why, why? And what did they require, always draining her?

Clarice Lispector in, Near to the Wild Heart.

[tomfordvelvetorchid-deactivated]

Im a professional sweetheart

[elysiumaze]

The room where she had spent so many afternoons glittered in the crescendo of an orchestra, silently, avenging itself for her distraction.

Clarice Lispector in, Near to the Wild Heart.

[elysiumaze]

And she loved that man as if she were a fragile grass and the wind buffeted, flogged her.

Clarice Lispector in, Near to the Wild Heart.

[rawjoy]

u know what makes me cry..... that one van gogh quote about life changing for the better..... “many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. and it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘what do i care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ yes, evil often seems to surpass good. but then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. one morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. and so i must still have hope.” yeah..... Crying....

[petaltexturedskies]

There were always, in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning, and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest.

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. I: 1931-1934

[petaltexturedskies]

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love" - The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin (1931-1932)

[elysiumaze]

Never suffer because you don’t have an opinion on this or that topic. Never suffer because you are not something or because you are.

Clarice Lispector in, Near to the Wild Heart.

[elysiumaze]

Animal life boils down to this pursuit of pleasure after all. Human life is more complex: it boils down to the pursuit of pleasure, to fear of it, and above all to the dissatisfaction of the time in between.

Clarice Lispector in, Near to the Wild Heart.

[elysiumaze]

It’s not being worth more to others, as regards the ideal human being. It’s being worth more inside yourself.

Clarice Lispector in, Near to the Wild Heart.