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peace be the journey

Amalgam

They called her witch because she knew how to heal herself.
Here We Are, Reflections of A God Gone Mad (2nd edition)

(Source: tevsmith, via thundrcries)

You remember too much,

my mother said to me recently.

Why hold onto all that?

And I said,

Where do I put it down?

Anne Carson, from “The Glass Essay” (via vrban)

(via caaesura)

You know, they straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for houses and livable acreage. Occasionally the river floods these places. “Floods” is the word they use, but in fact it is not flooding; it is remembering. Remembering where it used to be. All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. Writers are like that: remembering where we were, what valley we ran through, what the banks were like, the light that was there and the route back to our original place. It is emotional memory — what the nerves and the skin remember as well as how it appeared. And a rush of imagination if is our “flooding.”
Excerpt from “The Site of Memory,” Toni Morrison, What Moves at the Margin: Selected Nonfiction  (via commovente)

(via 2amconversations)

I’m bleeding, I’m not just making conversation.
Richard Siken, excerpt from “Wishbone”  (via larmoyante)

(via 2amconversations)

Let us cry for the spilt milk, by all means, if by doing so we learn how to avoid spilling any more. Let us cry for the spilt milk, and remember how, and where, and why, we spilt it. Much wisdom is learnt through tears, but none by forgetting our lessons.
María Amparo Ruiz de Burton (via observando)

(Source: bickle, via lordlykisses)

Big dreams aren’t for the faint hearted.
Geoff Clow (via gorgeouscompany)

(via inandoutagain)

  • Artist: Hozier
  • Track: Do I Wanna Know (Arctic Monkeys cover)

Hozier - Do I Wanna Know (Arctic Monkeys cover)

(Source: adelesadkins, via lordlykisses)

Inglourious Basterds (2009) dir.Quentin Tarantino

(Source: alsk00, via arosary)

People know what they do; frequently they know why they do what they do; but what they don’t know is what what they do does.
Michael Foucault (via theunquotables)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

ultraraw:

urbanreading:

Being haunted by desire of authenticity I take stealthy photos sometimes. I am interested to know how people read when they think nobody’s looking. The world surely does not exist for them at that moment.

I really like this

ultraraw:

urbanreading:

Being haunted by desire of authenticity I take stealthy photos sometimes. I am interested to know how people read when they think nobody’s looking. The world surely does not exist for them at that moment.

I really like this

(via ugh)

nevver:

D.H. Lawrence

Honestly, I wish I were dead.
Weeping she left with many tears,

And said; “Oh what terrible things
we endured. Sappho, truly,
against my will I leave you.”

And I answered: “Go, be
happy, and remember me;
For you know how we cared for you.

And if not, then I want
to remind you…of the wonderful
things we shared.

For many wreaths of violets and
roses…
you put on by my side.

And many woven garlands
fashioned of flowers,
you tied round your soft neck.

And with rich myrrh,
fit for a queen,
you anointed…

And on a soft bed,
tenderly,
you satisfied our desire.

And there was
no sacred place
from which we were absent.

No grove,
No dance,
No sound…

Fragment 94, Sappho. Translation by Ellen Greene.

Ellipses are in place where words are absent from the original damaged text.

(via homosexualityandcivilization)

(via epanistamai)