Rising

take your broken heart, turn it into art

[petrichorals]

“You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.”

— Paul Kalanithi M.D., When Breath Becomes Air (via themedicalstate)

[words-and-coffee]

I think of books left unread, mornings spent not in love, bodies choosing not to touch. And if it is possible, I am thankful for death because I am thankful for life, because I can smell coffee brewing, I can feel my mother brush hair from my face, I can lay lilies on her kitchen table.

Sierra Demulder, Today Means Amen: A Stranger Died in an Avalanche

[words-and-coffee]

“Let everything happen to you: Beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.”

— Rainer Maria Rilke, Go to the Limits of Your Longing (via perfectquote)

[litandlifequotes]

Hard to grow old still hungry. You were still hungry at your death.

"Stanzas Ending with the Same Two Words" by Frank Bidart

[theotherkingdoms]

— Megan Fernandes, “Do You Sell Dignity Here?” from I Do Everything I’m Told

[words-and-coffee]

As a child, I chased intangible things: wishes and fairies and stardust. When I grew up, I fabricated love out of phone calls and distance. I’ve never wanted what I could actually touch.

Trista Mateer, Persephone Made Me Do It: Fear

[words-and-coffee]

Remember that you and I made this journey together to a place where there was nowhere left to go.

Jhumpa Lahiri, The Namesake

[words-and-coffee]

I look at your face and there, I feel it—my life rushing toward me from both directions, twin rivers reversed and crashing backwards into their source. You were improbable as that— your eyes flicking open a seam in the dark, improbable— us, laughing at the same time with both our heads on the same pink pillow, improbable—in the same city—both our hearts still going— What are the chances, I murmur when I reach out and touch your brow, How is this possible —

Franny Choi, The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On: Waste

[wolkenschleier]

und weil ich mich leer und überfüllt zugleich fühle weiß ich nicht, wie ich die leere füllen soll ohne mich von der last erdrücken zu lassen

[bnmxfld]

I can't hold enough of you in my hands.

Franz Kafka / Letters to Milena

[forestlore]

“Sometimes the night wakes up in the middle of me and I can do nothing but become the moon.”

— Nayirrah Waheed (via wordsnquotes)

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

“The trees you planted in childhood have grown too heavy. You cannot bring them along.  Give yourselves to the air, to what you cannot hold.” - Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus

[words-and-coffee]

You're made of the same stars as me. You may not have walked fully formed out of the ocean but the past is the past for a reason.

Trista Mateer,  Aphrodite Made Me Do It

[wedarkacademia]

I know it is my father's first time on this Earth, too. And I know He had it worse when he was little.

But I was little too.

— Franz Kafka, from letters to his father

[words-and-coffee]

At the end of the day, whether one returns to the past or travels to the future, the present doesn’t change.

Toshikazu Kawaguchi, Before the Coffee Gets Cold (Translated by Geoffrey Trousselot)

[words-and-coffee]

Solitude was like a drug that she wasn’t sure she wanted to do without.

Leïla Slimani, Lullaby (Translated by Sam Taylor)

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

"And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too." - K. Hosseini