6 June 1926 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov

Kiana Khansmith
Claire Keane

Love Begins
hello vonnie
Xuebing Du
Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.

shark vs the universe

No title available
Monterey Bay Aquarium
trying on a metaphor
Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
One Nice Bug Per Day
cherry valley forever

★
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@jacobinaslibrary
6 June 1926 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov
Please write your story. Draw the artwork. Finish the animation. Continue on whatever project you're working on. It doesn't matter if you're not good at it, or you have doubts, or you're afraid of mistakes. Your creation has a right to exist, and it will be important to others.
♡ ~ Moomintroll reading ~ ♡
— nothingbutloveforyou
— Silas Melvin
In Vietnamese, the word for missing someone and remembering them is the same: nhớ. Sometimes, when you ask me over the phone, Có nhớ mẹ không? I flinch, thinking you meant, Do you remember me? I miss you more than I remember you.
— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
I can behave normally around books
I can be trusted in bookstores and libraries and you should take me to those locations
I won't go crazy this time.......promise.
i am in a stage where i have found a poetry book so heart wrenchingly beautiful that i almost have no intentions to share it over the internet.
poem by gazan poet nadine murtaja—(nadine.with.dr on instagram) shared on ig by majazz project
Nadine's gofundme
$26,567/$40,000 as of 5/27/2024
She remains the very thing that inspires poetry. That moves a writer to drag themselves on a journey to immortalize her on paper. She is the epitome of words that eternally breathe. Oh how glorious it is to know her. Oh how blinding it is to see her. She is walking literature.
Women, they have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they've got ambition, and they've got talent, as well as just beauty. I'm so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for. I'm so sick of it.
[Almost crying]
But I'm so lonely...
Jo March little women
The illusion of you haunts our conversation. The you you purchased in the isle of insecurities and deemed worthy enough to sell off to me. The you who's love is attached to an expiration date. The you who never existed yet still managed to have a birth.
But I am so deeply lost in my own soul, how can I expect anyone else to understand me?
- Courtney Peppernell
- j (x)
“A poet can survive everything but a misprint.” — Oscar Wilde, from The Children of Poets.
— Jay Vespertine; not from a book but from an actual conversation.