femme verbale

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I want a poem I can grow old in. I want a poem I can die in.

Eavan Boland, In a Time of Violence; Poems

[mzesu-blog]

© Mariam Giunashvili (@mzesu )

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I am learning peacefulness,…

Sylvia Plath, The Collected Poems

[mzesu-blog]

Take my somewhere nice. © Mariam Giunashvili (@mzesu)

[xshayarsha]

I would so like to let myself go, forget myself, sleep. But I can’t, I’m suffocating: existence penetrates me everywhere, through the eyes, the nose, the mouth…

Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

[purplebuddhaproject]

What disturbs and depresses young people is the hunt for happiness on the firm assumption that it must be met with in life. From this arises constantly deluded hope and so also dissatisfaction. Deceptive images of a vague happiness hover before us in our dreams, and we search in vain for their original.

Arthur Schopenhauer

[lisa401971]

Kate Moss by Mario Sorrenti Calvin Klein Obsession for Men (1993)

[metaphorformetaphor]

I must learn to stand alone. Nobody can really follow me all the way, understand me completely.

Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin

[mzesu-blog]

[theaffrontofeverything]

I understand death now. I don’t think it will do me much harm. I have known hatred, contempt, decay, and other things; I have even known brief moments of love. Nothing of me will survive, and I do not deserve for anything of me to survive. I will have been a mediocre individual in every possible sense.

Michel Houellebecq, Platform

[mzesu-blog]

[faithfuldesire]

“I want to tear myself from this place, from this reality, rise up like a cloud and float away, melt into this humid summer night and dissolve somewhere far, over the hills. But I am here, my legs blocks of concrete, my lungs empty of air, my throat burning. There will be no floating away.”

Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

[mzesu-blog]

[femmeverbale]

...a disdain full of disgust for those who don't realize that the only reality is each man's soul, and that everything else - the exterior world and other people - is but an unaesthetic nightmare [...] Everything useful and external tastes frivolous and trivial in the light of my soul's supreme reality and next to the pure sovereign splendour of my more original and frequent dreams. These, for me, are more real.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[mzesu-blog]

[weltenwellen]

She thinks I’m strong because I can push everything into the dark. But it leaves me empty. And the dark always finds me in my sleep.

Rebecca Donovan, Barely Breathing 

[mzesu-blog]