“Let us turn the page
And see what is written
On the other side of the night.”

Thomas McGrath, from “Graveyard Shift” (via the-final-sentence)

❦

“who
is invisible enough
to see you?”

Paul Celan, from Breathturn in Selected Poems, trans. John Felstiner (via proustitute)

❦

“Do not chase people. Be you and do your own thing and work hard. The right people who belong in your life will come to you, and stay.”

Wu Tang (via -0715)

(Source: ashleighadeline, via lazylittlelady)

❦

By somememoriesarebestforgotten on Tuesday, May 1st, 2012

amongthedays:

A basket of strawberries shared between strangers as the sea shook crabs out of her curls. Lauren plays the piano. Lauren is allergic to peppermint. Lauren had not eaten a strawberry since she was 6 years old but decided to try one because their sweetness appeared effortless. Sunlight licked our fingers, which were red and sticky. Having possibly made a new friend I smiled on my way back to the bed and breakfast, yet another place I will eventually leave. Do suitcases ever protest?

❦

(151)

By somememoriesarebestforgotten on Monday, April 30th, 2012

clavicola:

Yes, because I would rather not imagine
a world where where I’d wake up in the morning to you
in the kitchen; the smell of coffee grounds on your fingertips.
You, standing by the kitchen sink, looking out at the woman
across the street selling pomegranates in a white dress, and
smiling, as she smiles. 

I don’t need to imagine my voice, foreign in the mornings,
whisper your name by the doorway, and you, turning around
and falling in love with me again in a new light, with your skin like burning 
eggshells by the windowsill. 

Because this is how the story goes.
I’m falling for someone with a crooked heart because I want to
try to snap his bones back into place
so he doesn’t feel with a limp any longer. 

And this is how it ends.

I wrap my arms around your middle
and smell my love on your skin; kiss the spaces
between your spine, and wake,
never being able to dream further than the safety
of a man’s back. 

Because I’m well aware that my fingertips have never
asked yours if they’d take this dance. 
And the smile you give me like a gold token isn’t enough
to buy the prize on the top shelf. 

You are my oversized Bugs Bunny stuffed animal.

You are coffee grounds, soft lips, straight teeth. 

And I can’t afford to dream of you,
knowing that you’re not dreaming of me
too.

❦

“You used to read dictionaries like other people read novels. Each entry is a character, you’d say, who might be encountered on some other page. Plots, many of them, would form during any random reading. The story changes according to the order in which the entries are read. A dictionary resembles the world more than a novel does, because the world is not a coherent sequence of actions but a constellation of things perceived… . To portray your life in order would be absurd: I remember you at random. My brain resurrects you through stochastic details, like picking marbles out of a bag.”

Édouard Levé (tr. Jan Steyn), Suicide (via leopoldgursky)

(via clavicola)

❦
aseaofquotes: David Levithan/Rachel Cohn, Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist

By somememoriesarebestforgotten on Tuesday, March 6th, 2012

the-final-sentence:

“[Truth is, nothing at all is missing. Wind hisses and one shadow sways where a window’s lampglow has added something. The rest is dark and light together tolled against the boundary-riven houses.] Against our lives, the stunning wholeness of the world.”

— Betty Adcock, from “January”

(Source: growing-orbits)

❦

“She saw in the rainbow the earth’s new architecture, the old, brittle corruption of houses and factories swept away, the world built up in a living fabric of Truth, fitting to the over-arching heaven.”

D. H. Lawrence, from The Rainbow (via the-final-sentence)

❦
Page 1 of 127 →

Isadora Blanche Theme by La Cultura Visual