[donnainnominata]

Some pages from my book of pressed flowers

[mournfulroses]

Sara Torres, from her novel titled "X Is Where I Am," orginally published in March 2026

[headlikealamb]

rain³

[geopsych]

Sunrise sparkle, early August 2018

[petaltexturedskies]

But I do feel strange—almost unearthly. I’ll never get used to being alive. It's a mystery. Always startled to find I've survived.

John Steinbeck, Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters

[riverbird]

"I have been thinking about living like the lilies that blow in the fields.

They rise and fall in the edge of the wind, and have no shelter from the tongues of the cattle,

and have no closets or cupboards, and have no legs. Still I would like to be as wonderful

as the old idea. But if I were a lily I think I would wait all day for the green face

of the hummingbird to touch me. What I mean is, could I forget myself

even in those feathery fields? When Van Gogh preached to the poor of coarse he wanted to save someone--

most of all himself. He wasn't a lily, and wandering through the bright fields only gave him more ideas

it would take his life to solve. I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river--

where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues-- where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss, just rises and floats away." Mary Oliver, Lilies

[forestlore]

“Really, when I look back on it, I did exactly what I had set out to do. I changed my life. I woke myself up. I rediscovered passions of every variety. I forced myself to take a little time. I found a way to bring some of who I used to be into who I was.”

— Katherine Center, Everyone is Beautiful (via simply-quotes)

[mournfulroses]

María Casares, from a letter to Albert Camus, featured in Correspondance, 1944-1959

[malaisequotes]

“I caved and decided it will be joy from now on. Then everything opened. The lights blazed around me into a white weather and I was lifted, wet and bloody, out of my mother, screaming and enough.”

Not Even This by Ocean Vuong

[mournfulroses]

Anne Sexton, from a letter featured in Anne Sexton; A Self-Portrait In Letters

[mournfulroses]

Kurt Vonnegut, from Mother Night; "Chapter Six Hundred & Fourty Three,"

[mournfulroses]

Albert Camus, from a letter to María Casares featured in Correspondance, 1944-1959

[20thcenturystarlet]

The Feather Fairy (1985)

[mournfulroses]

Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Gordon Lameyer written c. 1953, featured in The Collected Letters

[crazyonmain-deactivated20230929]

I am not a girl I am an open wound

[holdingcaulfields]

sometimes i'm not quite here.

sophocles/unknown/eva baltasar/clementine von radics/unknown/j.d. salinger/susan sontag

[inkpressedpetals]