Lifeistooshort

Life is a vessel of sadness, but it is noble to live life, and without time there is no life. Others disagree. They would rather have an eternity of contentment, even if that eternity were fixed and frozen, like a butterfly mounted in a case. ....The greatest loss of time is delay and expectation, which depend upon the future. We let go the present, which we have in our power, and look forward to that which depends upon chance, and so relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty. (I don't claim to own any of the pictures i post and most of the words) If if you come upon a photo or any words that are yours please let me know as ill mention it!

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

via @extramadness

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“My thoughts, I’ve trained them to be unstable, and fragile enough to allow in truth. Holes for a possible other world. A velocity for breaking the time barrier.”

— Alice Notley, from “The Myth,” written c. March 2002 ft. in Overland Magazine

[extramadness]

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

“It goes a long way back, some twenty years. All my life I had been looking for something, and everywhere I turned someone tried to tell me what it was. I accepted their answers too, though they were often in contradiction and even self-contradictory. I was naive. I was looking for myself and asking everyone except myself questions which I, and only I, could answer. It took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: That I am nobody but myself. But first I had to discover that I am an invisible man!” - Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

[lotrscenery]

Elvish architecture - Paris, France

[lotrscenery]

Elvish architecture - Paris, France

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

“It goes a long way back, some twenty years. All my life I had been looking for something, and everywhere I turned someone tried to tell me what it was. I accepted their answers too, though they were often in contradiction and even self-contradictory. I was naive. I was looking for myself and asking everyone except myself questions which I, and only I, could answer. It took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: That I am nobody but myself. But first I had to discover that I am an invisible man!” - Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

[extramadness]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“My thoughts, I’ve trained them to be unstable, and fragile enough to allow in truth. Holes for a possible other world. A velocity for breaking the time barrier.”

— Alice Notley, from “The Myth,” written c. March 2002 ft. in Overland Magazine

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

via @extramadness

[anthroxlove]

“Deep in my heart I know I am a loner. I have tried to blend in with the world or be more sociable, but the more people I meet the more disappointed I am. So I’ve learned to enjoy myself, my family, and a few good friends.”

— Steven Aitchison

[johnmarkgreenpoetry-deactivated]

[kushandwisdom]

I hope she knows that at night when she closes her eyes she’s all I can see when i close mine.

yxnyxng-y2 (via thelovenotebook)

[extramadness]

[trulyvincent]

Moonlight over Racken Gustaf Fjæstad - Date unknown

[kushandwisdom]

…I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her. How could I not have loved her large, still eyes? I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don’t have her. To feel that I’ve lost her. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass. What does it matter that my love couldn’t keep her. The night is full of stars and she is not with me. That’s all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her. As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her. My heart searches for her and she is not with me. The same night that whitens the same trees. We, we who were, we are the same no longer. I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her. My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. Someone else’s. She will be someone else’s. As she once belonged to my kisses. Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long. Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, my soul is lost without her. Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her.

Pablo Neruda, excerpt from The Saddest Poem (via thelovenotebook)

[wnq-writers]

Moving on isn’t about when you don’t remember anymore, it’s being okay even when you do.

perspicacioussithlord, writing prompt #17: Write about moving on  (via wnq-writers)