r.m.s

Love, so ineffable and unoriginal. Nonetheless, your touch burns a fiery pre-text, to the notion we are merely halves to a whole. I'd pick you off the shelf if you'd rattle my bones.

[rubyandmoon-blog]

[exitwound]

jacqueline woodson

[theoptia]

Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980

Text ID: —to fill myself up. I always feel like I’m eating when I’m reading. And the need to read (etc. etc.) is like an awful raging hunger. So that I often try to read two or three books at a time.

[thebookquotes]

I've always found that the most beautiful people, truly beautiful inside and out, are the ones who are quietly unaware of their effect.

— Jennifer L. Armentrout, Obsidian

[book-caps]

Caitlyn Siehl, This is Not a Love Poem

[serratedpens]

“April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.”

— T. S. Eliot, from The Waste Land and Other Poems: “The Waste Land” (via intopermanence)

[89words]

“My blood suddenly knows you are gone It is shouting your name It runs down to the ends of my fingers looking for you”

— From This Is a Love Poem by Mary Fell 

[feral-ballad]

“I am going to (…) unlearn your love which was my only language, like a river that forgets its current, bed, and banks.”

— Gabriela Mistral, tr. by Randall Couch, From Madwomen: The Locas Mujeres Poems of Gabriela Mistral, a Bilingual Edition; “The Abandoned Woman”

[serratedpens]

“All that is human slips away; everything was mere husk. All that is left, indivisible, is birdsong and dusk.”

— Varlam Shalamov, from “All that is human”; The Penguin Book of Russian Poetry (ed. by Robert Chandler, Irina Mashinski, Boris Dralyuk)

[megairea]

Christina Rossetti, from From the Antique

[gnossienne]

Eugène Atget, “21 Rue Faubourg-Saint-Honoré, Paris” (1902)

[weltenwellen]

Albert Garcia from “August Morning”, Skunk Talk 

[romagaze]

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

[luthienne]

Mary Oliver, Blue Horses; “Blueberries”

[philosophomoric]

“the ways you have learned to survive may not be the ways you wish to continue to live“

[soracities]

“(…) How many times do our words become cells? How do we remove those splinters of memory and remain ourselves?”

— Richard Jackson, from “Belief” Out of Place (via weltenwellen)

[soracities]

“…and she superhuman and tranquil in her gleaming isolation.”

— Clarice Lispector, from “The Imitation of the Rose”, Collected Stories (trans. Katarina Dodson)