wear your heart on your sleeve.

She did not need much, wanted very little--a kind word, sincerity, fresh air, clean water, a garden, kisses, books to read, sheltering arms, a cosy bed, and to love and be loved in return.

[marienotwithdiamonds]

That is why I can't fully commit to any activity. I am afraid I might do things half-heartedly, which is what I hate the most. About my job, that is another issue...

[marienotwithdiamonds]

The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well That, for all they care, I can go to hell, But on earth indifference is the least We have to dread from man or beast. How should we like it were stars to burn With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me. Admirer as I think I am Of stars that do not give a damn, I cannot, now I see them, say I missed one terribly all day. Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky And feel its total dark sublime, Though this might take me a little time. - W. H. Auden

[marienotwithdiamonds]

2016 Reading Challenge Update 

 ☑️ Book of Short Stories Penguin Books came up with their Little Black Classics featuring 80 authors and published excerpts from their notable works. 

 Right now I am reading Guy de Maupassant's Femme Fatale. 

  Four sparkling nineteenth-century tales of Parisian high society and rural life, from the father of the modern short story. 

 Actually, I bought 5 books so make that Books of Short Stories. Practically you can finish reading them in one seating so I am planning to buy more.

[marienotwithdiamonds]

Now that I think about it

Will I be atleast sad that I am leaving this place? Uhm no. Not a bit. Work is not the place to invest emotions. And now, I am sad because I am not sad that I am leaving. Idk

[marienotwithdiamonds]

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.

- Maya Angelou

[marienotwithdiamonds]

Reading Challenge 2016

[ ] something written in Filipino [ ] a memoir [ ] children's classic [ ] sci-fi [ ] book of short stories [ ] trilogy [ ] self help book [ ] collection of poems [ ] something about history [ ] book made into a movie/tv show

[marienotwithdiamonds]

Going back to things that really matter

[marienotwithdiamonds]

But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round...as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!

Fred, A Christmas Carol

[marienotwithdiamonds]

I knew I should be grateful to Mrs. Guinea, only I couldn't feel a thing. If Mrs. Guinea had given me a ticket to Europe, or a round-the-world cruise, it wouldn't have made one scrap of difference to me, because wherever I sat--on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok--I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air

Esther Greenwood, The Bell Jar

[marienotwithdiamonds]

But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn’t do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn’t in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get at.

Esther Greenwood, The Bell Jar

[marienotwithdiamonds]

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Esther Greenwood, The Bell Jar

[lazyyogi]

Remember that sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck.

The Dalai Lama (via lazyyogi)

[marienotwithdiamonds]

To say what I feel and to not do things half-heartedly

[slaughteringbunnies]

[anachronica-deactivated20140926]

if you consider a woman less pure after you’ve touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands

(via reflowr)

[marienotwithdiamonds]

Lord, if hindi ko po kayang gawin, please help me out.

[makelovetothemoon]

My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you’ve been mean to someone, they won’t believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it’s time to stop being nice, then destroy them.

Laurell K. Hamilton (via impetrate)