[noorshirazie]

my mother once told me to build a thorn fence around my heart, to be firm and relentless in everything i stood for. her words sunk into my skin and lay buried for countless years. how did you break in? was my barrier not strong enough? am i to blame for lifting the fence so you could invade what was once my own? my mother would weep if she knew what you have done to me, what i have done to myself.

Noor Shirazie, into the wildfire: battle scars (via noorshirazie)

[flowerytale]

Forugh Farrokhzad, from ‘On Loving’, Sin: Selected Poems

[ladnaron]

It destroys you

[soracities]

“Never is the impossible. I like never. I also like always. What is there between never and always that links them so indirectly and so intimately?”

Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

[soracities]

“I talk about hope being a muscle. It’s not wishful thinking, and it’s not idealism. It’s not even a belief that everything will turn out OK. It’s an imaginative leap, which is what I’ve seen in people like John Lewis and Jane Goodall. These are people who said: “I refuse to accept that the world has to be this way. I am going to throw my life and my pragmatism and my intelligence at this insistence that it could be different and put that into practice.” That’s a muscular hope. So, to your question, I don’t always feel robustly hopeful. Depression is something I’ve struggled with. I’ve found the world an unbearable place for months at a time in the last two years. But at the same time I don’t feel like there’s a place in my work for my despair.”

— Krista Tippett, “Krista Tippett Wants You to See All the Hope That’s Being Hidden”, interviewed by David Marchese for The New York Times

[jabir29]

" ‏لم أجد شيئاً أثمن مِن الطمأنينة، لِذلك فهو الشيء الوحيد الذي أتمناه لكلُ شخصٍ أحبّه ."

— بيسوا

[ladnaron]

I remember a trend where people would post photos of themselves when they were at their worst and I keep looking at my pics from this month and hoping those are mine. Please ya Allah don’t let it get worse.

[i3y1]

[soracities]

Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”, Complete Poems

[Text ID: “My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass words and volumes of worlds.”]

[devotion2]

[ahmadx66]

[soracities]

Jack Gilbert, from “It May Be No One Should Be Opened”, Collected Poems

[Text ID: “Now you have fallen crazy and I have run away. It’s not the dreams. It’s this love of you that grows in me malignant.”]

[luthienne]

“Your loneliness is precious to you, I know. Does it disturb you to know you are dear to me? Do not let it. It is such a quiet feeling. It is like the light coming into a room—moonlight—”

— Katherine Mansfield, in a letter to J.M. Murry, dated December 14, 1919

[apoemaday]

Love, We Must Part Now

by Philip Larkin

Love, we must part now: do not let it be Calamitous and bitter. In the past There has been too much moonlight and self-pity: Let us have done with it: for now at last Never has sun more boldly paced the sky, Never were hearts more eager to be free, To kick down worlds, lash forests; you and I No longer hold them; we are husks, that see The grain going forward to a different use. There is regret. Always, there is regret. But it is better that our lives unloose, As two tall ships, wind-mastered, wet with light, Break from an estuary with their courses set, And waving part, and waving drop from sight.

[kafk-a]

[kafk-a]

Arundhati Roy, The End of Imagination

[bachteria]

أنِيري مَكانَ البَدْرِ إنْ أفَلَ البَدْرُ،

وَقومِي مَقَامَ الشَّمسِ ما اسْتَأخَرَ الفَجْرُ.

ففيك من الشمس المنيرة ضوؤها،

وَلَيْس لهَا مِنْكِ التّبَسُّمُ وَالثَّغْرُ.

~قيس بن الملوح