For me @ohcuriousworld - Tumblr Blog

“Some things you know all your life. They are so simple and true they must be said without elegance, meter and rhyme, they must be laid on the table beside the salt shaker, the glass of water, the absence of light gathering in the shadows of picture frames, they must be naked and alone, they must stand for themselves.”

— Philip Levine, from The Simple Truth (via violentwavesofemotion)

dreaminginthedeepsouth

'Starlit street at night', c. 1990s, by Fukuōji Kazuhiko (福王寺一彦; born 1953), a contemporary Nihonga (Japanese-style) painter from Mitaka, Tokyo.

(Jaded in Japan)

catonhottinroof-deactivated2023

Lucien Lévy-Dhurmer (1865 - 1953)

La bourrasque

schuylerpeck

I saw it in my mother’s hands too, the years of callouses, stubbornness of holding on that brought blisters; the way we can never let go. I don’t want to wear this proudly. I don’t want to say this is where I come from. but I feel the shape of that history, where these habits sit between my fingers. it will hurt to stop. I won’t always know how. but bodies aren’t meant to keep that kind of hurt and welcome it home. there are so many more beautiful things these hands could reach for.

memoryslandscape-deactivated202

“… the pang of tenderness remained, akin to the vibrating outline of verses you know you know but cannot recall.”

— Vladimir Nabokov, from Pnin (Heinemann, 1957)

0811

"Believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it."

- Rainer Maria Rilke

"I am grateful to have been loved and to be loved now and to be able to love, because that liberates. Love liberates. It doesn't just hold—that's ego. Love liberates. It doesn't bind. Love says, 'I love you. I love you if you're in China. I love you if you're across town. I love you if you're in Harlem. I love you. I would like to be near you. I'd like to have your arms around me. I'd like to hear your voice in my ear. But that's not possible now, so I love you. Go."

- Maya Angelou

“Lovers find secret places inside this violent world where they make transactions with beauty. Reason says, Nonsense. I have walked and measured the walls here. There are no places like that. Love says, There are."

- Rumi

theartofthecover

Nuclear Family #1 [Textless] (Hive Comics Exclusive Variant Cover) (2021)

Art by: Neil Nelson

lunamonchtuna

— Amal El-Mohtar, from This Is How You Lose the Time War (via lunamonchtuna)

kujiki

soul-and-blues

“On pense s’être accoutumé à l’absence, mais il suffit d’un rêve pour se retrouver devant la nudité de la mort.”

— Louise Dupré

ducissatenebrarum

hexandbalances

Melt by Hüseyin Özçelik

lupitovi

“Alors je lui ai dit Et d’ailleurs chuchote au creux de son oreille Au coin du creux de son oreille Et puisque les miennes sont cassées Il faut avoir une intention Et qu’elle soit la plus belle Et qu’elle soit vraiment claire voilà Quant à toi Je te laisse là Et je t'emporte avec moi en même temps Dans le creux de ma paume au carrefour de mes reins Il resre un morceau Ou une poussière de toi Et de ton quelque chose de toi qui est si doux et si calme Précieux et beau Triste aussi Un peu comme la pluie qui tombe et qui inonde tout Après quoi on est tout trempé Et on a froid Mais quand même On ne veut pas se sécher Oui parce qu’on est bien avec toi et après En rentrant chez moi Alors que je ne sais pas quoi écrire Je ne sais d’ailleurs plus écrire — je n’ai plus de stylo ! Je rentre Et la pluie dehors retrace le chemin jusqu'à toi Mais dans mon ventre Et c’est à ce moment-là Oui à ce moment-là seulement Que je t’écris Pour ne plus jamais t'écrire Parce que je pense Peut-être que la pluie Nous fait danser trop fort et nous pénètre trop loin Jusqu'au fond Jusqu'au fond de nous-même”

— Zoé Besmond de Senneville

letzternachtzug

Rachel Weisz; by Marc Hom for The Face Mag; 2001

classicbooks101

“When I found myself on the Boulevard de la Redoute again nothing was left but bitter regret. I said to myself: Perhaps there is nothing in the world I cling to as much as this feeling of adventure; but it comes when it pleases; it is gone so quickly and how empty I am once it has left. Does it, ironically, pay me these short visits in order to show me that I have wasted my life?”

— Jean-Paul Sarte, Nausea