With all my passionate intensity,
Denise Levertov, from The Complete Poems of Denise Levertov; “Ways of Conquest,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

JVL
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if i look back, i am lost
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@vowfailed-a
With all my passionate intensity,
Denise Levertov, from The Complete Poems of Denise Levertov; “Ways of Conquest,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
My longing for the past is deeper than words.
Tao Yuan-ming, tr. by Burton Watson, from “Matching a Poem by Secretary Kuo,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
You threw yourself in front of the fear and stopped it with your body –
Margaret Atwood, from “The Tent,” originally published c. February 2006 (via violentwavesofemotion)
Her soul was brave and dark. Her eyes were full of courage.
Zinaida Nikolaevna Gippius, from Selections; “Finally, The Party At Rach,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
don’t panic, don’t panic, you’re okay ---
The keyboard in her hands trembles; but she can’t be faulted for that. Her hands tremble, too, after all. The tones that flow from the instrument are steady and sure and familiar — melancholy, but safe.
She’s loneliest on days like this. Celebration all around her, new friends ( ? ) joyous and beloved, and she’s —— alone. They would invite her, she imagines, out of kindness. But it doesn’t feel right. She misses her friends — from her world. She misses her brothers so deeply she can barely breathe around it. She misses, simply and deeply. For once, isolation seems the safer option. Being near the others would just remind her of what it is she’s been forced to leave behind. Being around Sonic, who she loves like the world / who barely knows her ——— that would be worse.
“So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do — see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue.” Her voice is low and only half - there. This isn’t the kind of music she normally plays or the music she normally sings, but she can’t summon the energy for her usual. “Anyway — the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen ———”
The keyboard in her hands trembles; but she can’t be faulted for that. Her hands tremble, too, after all. The tones that flow from the instrument are steady and sure and familiar --- melancholy, but safe.
She’s loneliest on days like this. Celebration all around her, new friends ( ? ) joyous and beloved, and she’s ------ alone. They would invite her, she imagines, out of kindness. But it doesn’t feel right. She misses her friends --- from her world. She misses her brothers so deeply she can barely breathe around it. She misses, simply and deeply. For once, isolation seems the safer option. Being near the others would just remind her of what it is she’s been forced to leave behind. Being around Sonic, who she loves like the world / who barely knows her --------- that would be worse.
“So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do --- see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue.” Her voice is low and only half - there. This isn’t the kind of music she normally plays or the music she normally sings, but she can’t summon the energy for her usual. “Anyway --- the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen ---------”
Just drawin’ a redesign of a punky hedgehog. This here is Sonia, from Sonic Underground, which I awkwardly watched during ye olde tween years.
Manic requested by @halfbloodskull
Also added Sonia
some Sonina from awhile back
write me a starter u cowards
i’m worthless if i can’t succeed
… I’ve decided to make myself strong. As far as I can tell, that’s all I can do.
Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via theliteraryjournals)
“I’m weary of enduring now,”
— Emily Brontë, from Wuthering Heights (via luthienne)
Sonic (Sees Manic and Sonia): “That’s my band! I didn’t recognize us without me because I’m the only one that matters.”