.

[liquidlightandrunningtrees]

My heart is a cathedral. Widows, ghosts and lovers sit and sing in the dark, arched marrow of me.

Segovia Amil (via liquidlightandrunningtrees)

[purified-souls-deactivated20201]

[rabbitinthemoon-blog]

My blood is alive with many voices telling me I am made of longing.

Rainer Maria Rilke (via rabbitinthemoon-blog)

[lifeinpoetry]

“Who will touch me in the middle of this war.”

— Zaina Alsous, from “On Longing,” Lemon Effigies

[themaninthegreenshirt]

The Grasshopper [1872] by Jules LeFebvre

[motivationsforlife]

[colorel11]

[batwings-and-dragqueens]

While other spirits sail on symphonies Mine, my beloved, swims along your scent

Charles Baudelaire (via ingrocks)

[eloquenceisdying]

Every time it seems to me that I’ve grasped the deep meaning of the world, it is its simplicity that always overwhelms me.

Albert Camus, Lyrical and Critical Essays (via eloquenceisdying)

[buttonpoetry]

“The clock is a more complicated machine than the gun, and certainly the knife, but they all have the same final trick.”

— Michael Lee, from The Only Worlds We Know

[weepforadonais]

He was fascinated by moonlight and candlelight, and fire very soon entered into his rituals as a storyteller, ghost-raiser and alchemist.

Richard Holmes on Percy Bysshe Shelley, from Shelley: The Pursuit; A Fire-Raiser. (via weepforadonais)

[endilletante]

[aspiritualwarrior]

“The greatest fear in the world is the opinion of others, and the moment you are unafraid of the crowd, you are no longer a sheep, you become a lion. A great roar arises in your heart, the roar of freedom.”

— Osho

[nemophilies-deactivated20190428]

“In the antigarden represented by the desert, the question accompanying the poet like her shadow under the sun is: Who am I to be so alone? Who am I if I am not with another? The demand for another is always mute but piercing. All these texts ask for another and all the poets ask for another language, even for a foreign language perhaps, because the essence of poetry is to find strangeness in language.”

— Hélène Cixous, Readings: The Poetics of Blanchot, Joyce, Kafka, Kleist, Lispector, and Tsvetayeva

[thunderstruck9]

Miles Cleveland Goodwin (American, b. 1980), Life, 2018. Oil on linen, 24 x 36 in.

[turnnoffyourmind]

Cascadas Escondidas, National Park Pumalín Douglas Tompkins, Chile.

[macrolit]

“That’s the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when they’re suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world.”

— Ted Hughes, b. 16 August 1930