Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own [originally published 1929]

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Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own [originally published 1929]
everything I do is from the heart and out of love, that will never change
Therapy is not enough, I need to eat pasta with the person I love on a sunny afternoon in an Italian vineyard.
this tweet hasn't left my mind once in the two years since it's been posted
““What the universe will manifest when you are in alignment with it is a lot more interesting than what you try to manifest.” Adyashanti”
—
— Izumi Shikibu, from The Ink Dark Moon Love Poems
Our hands contain our humanness. Sometimes they give us away. They clasp a chair while we pretend not to be scared. They sweat from the palms while we beg our foreheads to stay dry. They also hold. They pray. They dance along the keys of a piano. They tickle. They dust themselves in flour. They shape bread. They scratch the back of a lover. We hide so much in this life, but I don’t know if it is possible to hide the way a hand can open and close itself out of care or loss or love.
Devin Kelly, from Ordinary Plots: "J. Estanislao Lopez's 'What the Fingers Do'"
"There is a price to be paid for every increase in consciousness. We cannot be more sensitive to pleasure without being more sensitive to pain."
~Alan Watts
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SONNETS & POEMS OF ROBERT BURNS . Art binding by Bayntun-Riviere.