D. H. Lawrence, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of D. H. Lawrence
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january tasted a bit like endlessness.
infinite exhaustion.
end id.]
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D. H. Lawrence, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of D. H. Lawrence
[image id:
january tasted a bit like endlessness.
infinite exhaustion.
end id.]
― Rosary, Anna Akhmatova
[text ID: Will you forgive me these November days?]
grief is so crazy like what if i forget what her laugh sounds like. does she know i loved her. i miss her so much. i catch myself doing things she used to do. i wish i could call her. i miss her so much. i do a crossword puzzle. i cry while washing the dishes. does she know i loved her? my heart feels like a hummingbird. i miss her so much. what if i forget what her laugh sounds like. what if i forget.
i talked ab this feeling in therapy yday and my therapist asked me, “would it really be so bad if your memories changed? if they softened and faded or looked different over time? why does that frighten you so much?” and i said, “i don’t want the love to disappear.” and she looked at me for a long moment and then she said, “it won’t. it doesn’t work that way. even if the memories soften or change, it doesn’t mean the love does. that love keeps going backward in time, forever, because you love her still. all is not lost.” i just thought i would share that in case it resonated w anyone else too.
Full of love and it’s all real
People might bring up Vincent van Gogh as an example of a painter who did great work in spite of, or because of, his suffering. I like to think that van Gogh would have been even more prolific and even greater if he wasn't so restricted by the things tormenting him. I don't think it was pain that made him so great, I think painting brought him whatever happiness he had.
—David Lynch
God we lost a real one today
Say that again? I'm sorry. I got distracted by your little mannerisms, how you pronounce certain words, and the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about, and started day dreaming about spending my life making you laugh, and feel loved and cherished
If you persevere, in time you will have an entirely different problem – not that life is meaningless, but rather that life has almost too much meaning. As the scales fall from your eyes the world rushes into focus, presenting itself with a kind of vibrational eloquence that can, at first, be almost overwhelming. Everything shimmers, everything clarifies, everything wrestles for your attention. Trees feel super-real, their roots plunged into the earth, their branches stretching to the sky, birds are flesh and blood souls, fragile with life, the sky unfolds and rolls, the ocean crashes, people fascinate, books are beautiful, children are whirling dynamos of chaos, dogs bark and cats meow, flowers shout, your neighbour glows, and God runs like a helix through all things. The world awaits you, humming with meaning. You are alive with potential. You are not dead.
— Nick Cave on getting clean, Red Hand Files #258
i can’t ever be normal i gotta think and obsess and think and obsess like will my mind ever know peace
youve died a thousand times before who caaares just climb out of this grave again & again &agaian & agaian & again & again & aga
“So I said, “Okay, go.” But I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it and how could you not know?”
— Chloe Frayne
That cozy feeling when raindrops are hitting your bedroom window and you're sitting there in comfort
i love stars because they are alone in the dark all the time & they aren’t even scared
ohhhh I get it!! The pain continues but so does the joy!!!!! Cool!!
If the world were truly a bad place the sea would not crash against the shore in such a mesmerizing display of untamable power and indescribable beauty
I'm too romantic for this world & it shatters my heart each time I think about it
there is no unlived life or alternative reality where everything went right…. there is only here and now what are you going to do with it
anne carson wrote beautifully about this: “i’m not saying move back towards life, i’m saying the future isn’t elsewhere. we’re locked in a spaceship, h of h, we have nothing but continuing.”
An absence so heavy it becomes a presence