[wordsnquotes]

Yes, books are dangerous. They should be dangerous—they contain ideas.

Pete Hautman (via wordsnquotes)

[your-lovers-and-drifters]

Roman Holiday, 1953

[xshayarsha]

@marcantonivs

[thelovejournals]

You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.

Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena. (via xshayarsha)

[xvaniex]

“Look at me. I am the son of a great man. A goddess was my mother. Yet death and inexorable destiny are waiting for me.”

[cant-thinkofanythingclever]

wanna be cuddled for like 4 or 5 days

[sleevesofgrass]

We read books and highlight the lines that speak to us, we listen to music and tattoo the lyrics that touch us, we turn to poetry and learn the lines that become us; we’re all hopelessly inept people, struggling in vain to coherently express ourselves. We know what we want to say but we don’t know how.

reasons why i write /// ehnigma (via sleevesofgrass)

[hubrivs-deactivated20200826]

And so I try to be kind to everything I see, and in everything I see, I see him.

Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life (via hubrivs)

[antigonies]

Persephone is having sex in hell. Unlike the rest of us, she doesn’t know what winter is, only that she is what causes it.

Louise Glück, “Persephone the Wanderer” from Averno (via hubrivs)

[somehow---here]

– E ti sentivi solo? – Mi mancavi tu.

Italo Calvino, Il barone rampante, cap. 22 (via somehow—here)

[beatgenerationboobs]

Does Shelley go on telling strange stories of the deaths of kings? Tell him, there are strange stories of the deaths of poets.

John Keats,The Complete Letters of John Keats. (via lesromantiques)

[ipusheveryoneaway]

Sei perfetta non perché non fai errori ma perché ne fai tantissimi perché ci provi sempre e ci riprovi ancora e non molli mai, testa dura, cuore morbido.

Gio Evan (via ipusheveryoneaway)

[bensllo]

‘I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.’                      - The Song of Achilles

[bensllo]

x,x,x

[hplyrikz]

I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons.

(via hplyrikz)

[niktipolos]

History’s smell. Like old roses on a breeze. It would lurk forever in ordinary things. In coat hangers. Tomatoes. In the tar on roads. In certain colours. In the plates at a restaurant. In the absence of words. And the emptiness in eyes.

 The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy (via dostevsky)

[flores-et-dracones]

The ancient weapon threatens still, that bronze-forged, two-edged axe

Sophocles’ Electra (trans. D Raeburn)

I love this quote! The two-edged axe is the axe Clytemnestra used to slay Agamemnon, the ancient weapon that led to a (temporary) subversion of patriarchal social order, an ancient weapon that threatens still.

(via xshayarsha)

[johnlockdynamic]

Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry. I know Hyacinthus, whom Apollo loved so madly, was you in Greek days.

Oscar Wilde, in a letter written to Lord Alfred Douglas, January 1893 (via wildelyinappropriate)

[never5urrender]

Stasera sono stanco di me stesso e vorrei essere qualcun altro.

Il ritratto di Dorian Gray, Wilde (via never5urrender)