A Room of my Own

Literature, prose, poetry, words and more words... "Open a book this minute and start reading. Don't move until you've reached page fifty. Until you've buried your thoughts in print. Cover yourself with words. Wash yourself away. Dissolve." Creator: Tarkovskologist

[wordsfullofechoes]

… there was always a confused place where her dream died away.

Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

[wavingtovirginia]

She shut her eyes, and the pulse in her head beat so strongly that each thump seemed to tread upon a nerve, piercing her forehead with a little stab of pain.

Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out  (via wavingtovirginia)

[wordsfullofechoes]

I wanted to write a book. But where are the words? all the meanings have been exhausted.

 Clarice Lispector, A Breath of Life

[913days]

"I cried to think of a savage cynical fate which had made it impossible for my love ever to be used by you …"

- Carrington in a letter to Lytton Strachey (1921)

[kafkaesque-world]

And whether you like it or not, I belong to you.

Franz Kafka, from Letters To Felice (via kafkaesque-world)

[wordsfullofechoes]

I loved her, and could not but long to have her come; but I loved her, and not a soul must know it - not even she. It would be a torture, I thought, to have to sit beside her at my father's table with that love within me, mute and restless as a gnawing worm.

Sarah Waters, Tipping the Velvet

[wordsfullofechoes]

whenever I had to leave town she kissed me away

Charles Bukowski, “Kissing me away”

[aseaofquotes]

— Henry Miller

[sempiternale]

I write as if to save somebody’s life. Probably my own. Life is a kind of madness that death makes. Long live the dead because we live in them.

Clarice Lispector, A Breath Of Life

[wordsfullofechoes]

… as I lay in my bed; and, as anyone will tell you who has been secretly in love, it is in bed that you do your dreaming - in bed, in the darkness, where you cannot see your own cheeks pink, that you ease back the mantle of restraint that keeps your passion dimmed throughout the day, and let it glow a little

Sarah Waters, Tipping the Velvet

[wordsfullofechoes]

… and I never once grew tired of her.

Sarah Waters, Tipping the Velvet

[wordsfullofechoes]

When I see her... it's like -I don't know what it's like. It's like I never saw anything at all before. It's like I am filling up, like a wine-glass when it's filled with wine. [...] She makes me want to smile and weep, at once. She makes me sore, here.'I placed a hand upon my chest, upon the breast-bone.'

Sarah Waters, Tipping the Velvet

[wordsfullofechoes]

your thoughts more white than wool My thought is sorrowful: but my heart smote in trembling thirds of anguish quivers to your words

E. E. Cumming

[wordsfullofechoes]

and I could feel my soul dropping down through the mattress

Charles Bukowski, "the night I was going to die"

[wordsfullofechoes]

you think life is rotten if somebody treats you rotten it all fits, doesn’t it? tell me, is that it? do you want to be treated like a piece of shit?

Charles Bukowski

[wordsfullofechoes]

waiting in a life full of little stories for a death to come

 Charles Bukowski

[wordsfullofechoes]

In the isolation of her life, she transferred into that childish head all her sparse, shattered illusions.

Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary