maria of the pines

[mmaisonnnn]

[metamorphesque]

Lilac, Martiros Sarian

Nature's ways are wonderful and unfathomable. The grain swells in the soil, the sprout grows and flowers when the time comes and then it bears new fruit and so does not die. We are like grain. We never die because we are One with Nature. To understand this is to comprehend Immortality--the Apotheosis of the Human Race. It is with this conviction that I have lived my Life. My Life is a store of my experience, a Life of aspirations, sorrows, joys and triumphs. (M. Saryan)

[askebos]

“Stop thinking about saving your fragile face. Tell us your particularized world. Make up a story. Narrative is radical, creating us at the very moment it is being created. We will not blame you if your reach exceeds your grasp. We will not blame you if your words go down in flames and nothing is left but the raw-scald. We will not blame you if, with the reticence of a surgeon’s hands, your words suture only the red places where blood might flow. We will not blame you because we know you can never do it properly: once and for all. Passion is never enough. Talent is never enough. Skill is never enough. But try. For our sake and yours. So. Forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don’t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief’s wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear’s caul. You, so blessed with occasional blindness, can speak the language that tells us what only language can: how to see without pictures. We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”

— Toni Morrison, The Nobel Lecture In Literature, 1993

[weltenwellen]

Wildness Before Something Sublime Leila Chatti

[addzeysatticofasinine]

[metamorphesque]

the quietude of things, tathev simonyan

[metamorphesque]

genocide, tathev simonyan

[achillesinhighheels]

[dreamstars]

[metamorphesque]

Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible. 

Carl Jung, “Memories, Dreams, Reflections”

I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones. 

Franz Kafka, “Letters to Milena”

[soracities]

It’s so hard to speak and say things that cannot be said. It’s so silent.

—Clarice Lispector, Agua Viva

[metamorphesque]

“There is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one’s idea for thirty-five years; there’s something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas.”― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

[heavensghost]

Words by Andrea Gibson

[kaos-teorema]

anatomie de l'enfer (catherine breillat, 2004)

[bigartattack]

Untitled - Charles Martin

[canadian-marxist]

[metamorphesque]

why do all the words sound heavier in my native language?

—  @metamorphesque, Yoojin Grace Wuertz (Mother Tongue), Still Dancing: An Interview With Ilya Kaminsky (by Garth Greenwell), Jhumpa Lahiri (Translating Myself and Others), @lifeinpoetry

[mournfulroses]

Sonya Vatomsky, from a poem titled "Spring Flowers," featured in Salt Is for Curing, publ. in 2015

[scorpionlafemme]