volatile phrases

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[thehopefulquotes]

“Do not mistake me for my mask. You see light dappling on the water and forget the deep, cold dark beneath.”

— Patrick Rothfuss

[perfectquote]

I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.

Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner (via perfectquote)

[quotefeeling]

That’s all I can do. I’ll keep at it and hope it gets better.

Ned Vizzini, It’s Kind of a Funny Story (via quotefeeling)

[tristealven]

“Unbody me–I’m tired–and get me home.”

— Ralph Hodgson, excerpt of “The Moor”, from Eve, And Other Poems (1913)  (via antigonick)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“I leave the house, I walk the streets, get melancholy, and come home again,”

— Frédéric Chopin, from a letter to Tytus Woyciechowski c. September 1830

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I’ve been taking long walks in the woods on my own,

Louise Labé, tr. by Jean Morris, featured in “I Became Alone; Five Women Poets,”

[sunsounds]

“I am gathering skies like a madwoman–”

— Olga Orozco, from Engravings: Torn from Insomnia: “A Face In Autumn,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[lifeinpoetry]

because you are never satisfied I swallow my own grief eat yours whole

— Christine Taylor, from “Wasteland,” published in RogueAgent

[trustissued]

“The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I’m alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling.”

— Richard Siken (via quotemadness)

[perunn-deactivated20210801]

“To feel you in my veins like God in the rivers”

— Pablo Neruda, first line to “Love,” Book of Twilight, trans. William O’Daly (Copper Canyon Press, 2017)

[ecrituria]

“Am I in love?—yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn’t wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover’s fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.”

— Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments

[four-evasions]

“I didn’t know yet how wanting to die could be a bloodsong in your body that lives with you your whole life.”

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

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“This place [this landscape] has become the form of my work, its discipline, in the same way the sonnet has been the form and discipline of the work of other poets: if it doesn’t fit it’s not true.”

— Wendell Berry, from “Notes from an Absence and a Return,” in A Continuous Harmony: Essays Cultural and Agricultural (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“I am alone. I am nothing but a faint noise. I have several noises inside me.”

— Tristan Tzara, tr. by Paul Auster, from Selected Verses; “Approximate Man,”

[lifeinpoetry]

“It’s true I made a feast of my own misery I invited everyone the whole gang / We ate only flowers it was my misery after all”

— Emily Skaja, from “[Remarkable the Litter of Birds],” Brute

[books-n-quotes]

“I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things which I dare not confess to my own soul.”

— Bram Stoker, Dracula (via books-n-quotes)

[mrnishe]

“We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing”

— Charles Bukowski