“(Most days I don’t know what I am).”
— Voyage of the Sable Venus: and Other Poems; “On the Road to Sri Bhuvaneshwari” by Robin Coste Lewis
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“(Most days I don’t know what I am).”
— Voyage of the Sable Venus: and Other Poems; “On the Road to Sri Bhuvaneshwari” by Robin Coste Lewis
“A tired man, when he laughed he seemed absolutely alone on Earth.”
— Ilya Kaminsky, from ‘Travelling Musicians’ (‘Isaac Babel’), Dancing in Odessa
“I am in love with misfortune. I should like to clasp it and identify myself with it,”
— Valery Larbaud, tr. by William Jay Smith, from “L’etterna Volutta,”
“People who live in society have learnt how to see themselves, in mirrors, as they appear to their friends. I have no friends: is that why my flesh is so naked?”
— Jean-Paul Sartre
“I want to melt inside moonlight,”
— Lu Yun, from tr. by Burton Watson, “For Ku Yen-hsien, A Poem for Him to Give to his Wife,”
And what, then, is the whole of what I have done ? Quite simply: I have introduced just a little bit of honesty.
Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) in: “Kierkegaard’s Journals and Notebooks, Volume 10: Journal NB31: 138″ (1854), translated from the Danish by Bruce H. Kirmmse (via finita--la--commedia)
“If anything, I turn away; into greater and greater detachment.”
— Martha Gellhorn, in a letter to Campbell Beckett, from Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn
“I think I am the victim of a dream.”
— Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Trapeze: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1947–1955 (via violentwavesofemotion)
“Moon-minded,”
— Audre Lorde, from The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde; “Gemini,””
““Ineffectually have I endeavoured to conquer the ardent feelings of my soul; now I overcome them.” were her last words.”
— Percy Bysshe Shelley, from St. Irvyne; or The Rosicrucian.
“I feel that I’m losing the most beautiful years of my life.”
— Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter to his sister written c. March 1912
“The secret harmony of disharmony: I don’t want what is already made but what is tortuously in the making.”
— Clarice Lispector, from Água Viva, trans. Stefan Tobler (New Directions, 2012) (via wishbzne)
“I give such a big yawn that tears come into my eyes.”
— Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea (via nauseadaily)
Existence is prior to essence.
Jean-Paul Sartre (via nauseadaily)
I go forward slowly.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea (via nauseadaily)
“And here I am. Lost to everything lost.”
— Nuala Archer, from From A Mobile Home: Poems; “Wild Turkeys at Vinson,”
Tenderly, dying inside,
Olga Orozco, from Engravings: Torn from Insomnia: “A Face In Autumn,” (via violentwavesofemotion)