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@sodelicateamidstthehardsurfaces
“The missing part, the missing past, can be an opening, not a void. It can be an entry as well as an exit. It is the fossil record, the imprint of another life, and although you can never have that life, your fingers trace the space where it might have been, and your fingers learn a kind of Braille. There are markings here, raised like welts. Read them. Read the hurt. Rewrite them. Rewrite the hurt.”
— Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson
“You came into my life–not as one comes to visit…but as one comes to a kingdom where all the rivers have been waiting for your reflection, all the roads, for your steps…”
— Vladimir Nabokov, in a letter to Véra Slonim (1923), Letters to Véra
“Quietly you come and take what you want and I don’t realize just how much you’ve taken until you decide to show me how my desires and your desires are one and the same”
— by~sw, Re-blog me again, please… (via ms-woodsworld)
The feeling that something is missing never, ever leaves you - and it can't, and it shouldn't, because something IS missing. That isn't of its nature negative. The missing part, the missing past, can be an opening, not a void. It can be an entry as well as an exit. It is the fossil record, the imprint of another life, and although you can never have that life, your fingers trace the space where it might have been, and your fingers learn a kind of Braille.”
― Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?
Don’t call it separation.
[…]
Call it what it is.
Amputation. Dismemberment. Call it
the willful shattering of a dish—its surface once whole and flawed as the moon,
shaped with tenderness, with care. Call it rending.
— Sarah Burke, from “What It Is,” published in wildness
“The wound can have (should only have) just one proper name. I recognize that I love — you — by this: you leave in me a wound I do not want to replace.”
— Jacques Derrida, from The Post Card: From Socrates to Freud and Beyond
“… you may be sure that I live only to adore you; my heart is full of you, and your absence, far from making me forget you, would inflame my passion, were it possible for it to become more violent.”
— Montesquieu (1689-1755) Letter 7, Fatmé to Usbek, The seraglio in Ispahan, the 12th of the Moon of Rebiab 1 1711 in: “Montesquieu. Persian letters”, translated from the French by Margaret Mauldon
“Hold my hand in yours, and we will not fear what hands like ours can do.”
— The Epic of Gilgamesh (Danny P. Jackson translation)
“You touch me like I am everything you asked god for. Underneath your hands I become poetry. This is the alchemy that you do.”
— T. James (via quotemadness)
“Everything you needed to know I told you without speaking. I watched you the way someone who has never known fire watches the grey dawn ignite. I touched you the way a wild animal walks into a thresher. I held your name in my mouth the way the river holds the moon.”
— NATALIE WEE, ( 12 / ? ) (via wondersmithinc)
“…this longing that leads us to hang on, to go on, to proceed with hope.”
— Clarissa Pinkola Estés, from “Women who Run with the Wolves,” c. 1992
“To you that know my heart, and from whom I shall never hide it,”
— Dorothy Osborne, from a letter to William Temple written c. June 1652
“She was a contradiction. So easy to please and yet only a few could ever truly understand why she was what she was. And even less would love her for it.”
—
You have to meet her where she is…and love her from there.
Verse50
“I will never be able to pound words into lines To match the velocity of your presence..”
— Henry Rollins
“You came into my life–not as one comes to visit…but as one comes to a kingdom where all the rivers have been waiting for your reflection, all the roads, for your steps…”
— Vladimir Nabokov, in a letter to Véra Slonim (1923), Letters to Véra
