January 2012
9 posts
this isn't happiness.: F. Scott Fitzgerald’s... →
nevver:
Days of this February were white and magical, the nights were starry and crystalline. The town lay under a cold glory.
Dyed Siberian horse.
As thin as a repeated dream.
The sea was coming up in little intimidating rushes.
The island floated, a boat becalmed, upon the almost perceptible…
December 2011
3 posts
November 2011
2 posts
September 2011
5 posts
3 tags
3 tags
4 tags
2 tags
August 2011
1 post
July 2011
50 posts
“It is still beautiful to hear the heart beat
but often the shadow seems more...”
– Tomas Tranströmer, from After a Death, translated by Robert Bly
via proustitute:::aubade (via frenchtwist)
“She strung the afternoon on the necklace of memorable days, which was not too...”
– Virginia Woolf,Moments Of Being. (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
“I think there’s a kind of desperate hope built into poetry that one really...”
– W. S. Merwin
(via lesmotsjustes)
“We were wanderers from the beginning.”
– Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space, New York: Random House, 1994 (Yes. Thank you, amiquote)
Phosphenes n. the stars and colors you see when you rub your eyes.
