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@nickld
Suddenly I was crying. It was already love.
Clarice Lispector, from Água Viva (via violentwavesofemotion)
I’ve cried so much this past year, I just can’t cry anymore.
Ellen Bass, from Like A Beggar; “Women Walking” (via violentwavesofemotion)
My Kind Of Woman - Mac DeMarco
And I’m down on my hands and knees
Beggin’ you please baby,
Show me your world.
My grandparents divorced 22 years ago. My grandma has remarried three different times and my grandfather hasn’t even looked at another woman. When I asked him what went wrong, he said, “You can love someone with everything inside of you, but you can never make them love you forever. I was a fool to think she wouldn’t leave me.”
Amanda Helm, Wandering Souls (via amandaspoetry)
I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon.
Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love” -The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin (1931-1932)
Today I have died. It is not the first time I have died, but this time I died more profoundly, and the agony was the bitterest I have ever known. I cannot bear life. Up to this point I could bear it. Tonight I cannot. I think of death, of my death. Death would be sweet. Especially because my mind is no longer lucid. I cannot bear the pain.
Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Linotte: The Early Diary Of Anaïs Nin (1914-1920 (via violentwavesofemotion)
Her beauty drowned me. As I sat in front of her I felt that I would do anything mad for her, anything she asked of me. She was color, brilliance, strangeness.
Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love” -The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin (1931-1932)
Life is such chaos, And I am so tired –
Margitt Kaffka, from Father (via violentwavesofemotion)
Sometimes, when I sit like this, quiet, all the dreams of my blood and all outrageous divisions of time seem ready to leave, to slide out of me.
Mary Oliver, from Dream Work: Poems; “Knife” (via violentwavesofemotion)
Every morning I walk like this around / the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart / ever close, I am as good as dead.
Mary Oliver, from Dream Work: Poems; “Landscape” (via violentwavesofemotion)
Today I am gone and for good. It is done now. I can never retrogress. The basis of reality has been blown away by the very pressure of my imagination–other regions, other air to breathe, no boundaries. I tried for many years to fit into the actual world; I starved. I am ready to give myself to the other.
Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Linotte: The Early Diary Of Anaïs Nin (via violentwavesofemotion)