January 2012
5 posts
1 tag
& I slept, having prayed, ‘God forgive all the sins uncommitted in my...
– the bitter morning after a sinless night / david van dusen (via karileighrosenfeld)
The way her body existed only where he touched her. The rest of her was smoke.
– Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things (via poete)
2 tags
Oh God it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke...
– Frank O’Hara, Steps (via atomiccherrybomb)
2 tags
December 2011
36 posts
2 tags
What better occupation, really, than to spend the evening at the fireside with a...
– Gustave Flaubert (via whiskey river)
1 tag
2 tags
1 tag
1 tag
1 tag
All of this is typical girl-fear. Once you realize that The Exorcist is,...
– Rookie, The Season of the Witch (via newanddifferentsun)
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a...
– Robert Frost (via atomiclanterns)
whoever gives nothing has nothing. the greatest misfortune is not to be unloved,...
– albert camus, notebooks 1951-1959 (via wine-loving-vagabond)
1 tag
If you have yet to be called an incorrigable, defiant woman,
don’t worry, there...
– Clarissa Pinkola Estés (via purveyor-of-fine-whines)
ahuntersheart:
“As It Turns Out” by Barbara Köhler
I’ve no say in it everything’s ready-said for me I like turns of phrase that transform fixed sentences between walls spaced out into unruly spaces a place not known: the unknown a woman an ‘I’ a voice given to speech a resounding body taken at its word grows hands that are mine to take hold of an incantation & when I stand by this word it...
1 tag
She stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray, then settles herself against him,...
– Margaret Atwood, from The Blind Assassin (via aubade)
November 2011
35 posts
1 tag
Scott was a man then who looked like a boy with a face between handsome and...
– Ernest Hemingway on F. Scott Fitzgerald (via worldhanging)
1 tag
1 tag
1 tag