Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into...– John Muir (via mooochelle)
Yesterday I Cried
Yesterday, I cried. I came home, went straight to my room, sat on the edge of my bed, kicked off my shoes, unhooked my bra, and I had myself a good cry. I cried until my nose was running all over the silk blouse I got on sale. I cried until my ears were hot. I cried until my head was hurting so bad that I could hardly see the pile of soiled tissues lying on the floor at my feet. I want...
The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to...– Osho (via nirvikalpa)
For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life....– Alfred D. Souza (via ancora-imparo)
The Literary Collective: These are the kinds of... →
literarycollective: These are the kinds of walls you can hear through. All of it, all of life, the laughing and the music and the love and all the other things that people think are happening to them in private, there are moments that fall through the drywall that we wouldn’t tell to our oldest friends, there are…
Action expresses priorities.– Mahatma Gandhi
"Not Waving but Drowning" by Stevie Smith
libraryland: Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he’s dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.
Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and...– Victor Hugo
I love, therefore I am vulnerable.– Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art
With a little seed of imagination you can grow a field of hope.– Nigerian proverb
do you dream in color, too?: Alison Townsend: "My... →
grammatolatry: No one, I say, over Thanksgiving dinner at the Fess, the rhinestone ear- rings I bought to please my lover brushing my cheeks like cool, knowl- edgeable fingers. Then I amend that to: Well, my writing group does, of course. But mostly I read my own rough drafts now. I…
Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar.– E. B. White (via xheatherrrr)
Hate is too great a burden to bear. It injures the hater more than it injures...– Coretta Scott King (via caraobrien)
mirrorsandmirages: There is a void: to be filled with buckets of sand from the beach, with dirty paperbacks, with God, anger, and love. With sunrises, highlighter fluid, does it matter, it’s all the same, with argument, mascara, with the mid-coital bliss my biology textbook promises. The depths of which I don’t dare to stick my hands into. For fear of the shadow falling across my bed...
A strong person is the one who knows how to be quiet, shed a tear for a moment,...– (via unrollingthescroll)
pinksubmergence: a bag of bones from his closet scattered on the floor, a few chipping. the spines arched and different sets of fingers entwined. white powder freckles like sugar on chocolate floor, a mosaic of what once slept underneath our rubbery skin.
We cannot achieve democracy and lasting peace in the world unless women obtain...– Norwegian Nobel Committee chairman Thorbjoern Jagland
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back...– Robert Frost, “Acquainted with the Night” (The Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Norton, 2003)