Tag: poetry

dorothea-rising:

dorothea-rising:

“i think about the glorious world of the future. think about me think about me think about me. not to be uncontrolled, not to control. alone. safe…to be separate, to be alone, to stand and walk alone, not to be different and weak and helpless and degraded…and shut out. not shut out, shutting out…on the other side somewhere there is a country, perhaps the glorious country of well-dom, perhaps a country of a story. perhaps both, for a happy book…laughter is possible laughter is possible laughter is possible.”

— from the diaries of Shirley Jackson

Above is the last entry Jackson wrote in her diary before she passed away in her sleep at the age of 48

lifeinpoetry:

What is pleasurable for you?

she asks at the end of our session and I think of nothing.
I mean, I cannot think. My hair stroked gently after throwing up,

a handwritten note reading Be back later. I say
it tastes like a flower I can’t name.

— Anna Meister, from As If

Anyone who has half-woken up to the sound of a train or an ambulance in a nocturnal city, and through his/her sleep experienced the space of the city with its countless inhabitants scattered within its structures, knows the power of sound over the imagination; the nocturnal sound is a reminder of human solitude and mortality, and it makes one conscious of the entire slumbering city. Anyone who has become entranced by the sound of dripping rain in the darkness of a ruin can attest to the extraordinary capacity of the ear to carve a volume into the void of darkness. The space traced by the ear in darkness becomes a capacity sculpted directly in the interior of the mind.

Juhani Pallasmaa, The Eyes of the Skin  (via nemophilies)

weltenwellen:

“Everyone is dying, everything is dying, and the earth is dying also, eaten up by the sun and the wind. I don’t know where I get the courage to keep on living in the midst of these ruins. Let us love each other to the end.”

— George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert