June 2012
196 posts
“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”
—Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via showslow)
True
王若琳
True by 王若琳.
“The sky was made so clear that sometimes, at night, you can see the far blue edge of forever behind distant suns. Yet, nothing’s that clear here, and I’m sitting right next to you.”
—Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via 4mbivalent)
“One can accept a Picasso woman with two noses, but an equivalent attempt in poetry baffles the same audience.”
—John Ashbery, The Art of Poetry No. 33 (via theparisreview)
3
It’s not always the case that if one is in a relationship, everything that he’s thinking will be put into life. Everytime it happens, it seems like everything that he sees is light and no traces of ugliness at all; and for that, he’s blinded. Sometimes, what seems to be superficially pleasant and beautiful can’t be resisted, but it delimits the space inside us, and it tightens the veins of our dreams.
“Sometimes I’m scared I’ll find my soul mate, and they’ll want nothing to do with me.”
—John Mayer (via anditslove)
“It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional.”
—Thomas Pynchon, V. (via thepenguinpress)
Sweet Road
Animal Collective
Animal Collective
“Sweet Road”
From Sung Tongs
2
Good morning, June thirteen. I went outside to find some quiet place to breath, and I was successful about it. It was then that I have seen a light between the clouds like apple cracks and bittersweet glare coming from the sun. I knew that it was just lurking around, and I knew that it just hid in there. But when I took a walk to check the greens in the garden, I felt the wind and it brought me somewhere in the past. I glanced up again and tasted a raindrop and it tasted nothing, but I liked how it felt in my tongue. I remembered the first time I tasted rain when I was little. I used to play a lot in the garden to form some clay balls for fun. I didn’t know what it was for but I loved it. It was a Sunday, but it was the first time I tasted rain. It tasted nothing, but I knew that I opened my little mouth to gather some and I was happy about it. It was the same month of the year, the month that there was something which could feel like rain. Sometimes I wonder how it feels like to be a raindrop, to be in the place of a thing which others sometimes can’t feel.
I want to talk to someone who needs to talk to a stranger. I just want to feel how it goes. Like when we talk, it’s as if everything we say just passes by, like the lights of cars on the road which trail like they will never end, but the truth is they will, and they will be gone like how everything is not happening anymore. I see how car lights go away too quickly, it’s like that when they say hi, they bring some confusing streak of jets, like saying that they want to stay but they can’t; we know how it feels like when they’re gone, and we know how permanent that feeling is.
“It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.” —Billy Collins, from “Litany” (thanks, risky wiver)
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.” —Billy Collins, from “Litany” (thanks, risky wiver)
“I love you more than my own skin.”
—Frida Kahlo to Diego Rivera (via thechocolatebrigade)
“She let out a laugh, and then she put her hand over her mouth, like she was angry at herself for forgetting her sadness.”
—Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (via rosettes)
Lovesong of the Buzzard
Iron & Wine
Iron & Wine - Lovesong of the Buzzard
In the failing light of the afternoon
Lucy in the shade of the dogwood blooms
Yesterday the solace of a poison fish
Tomorrow I’ll be kissing on her blood red lipsNo one is the saviour they would like to be
The lovesong of the buzzard in the dogwood tree
With a train of horses laughing through the traffic line
And the cradle’s unimaginative sense of timeSpringtime and the promise of an open fist
A tattoo of a flower on a broken wrist
Lucy tells me jokingly to wipe her brow
With a pocket map to heaven and the sun goes down
sighhhhhhh……..
Somewhere Only We Know
Keane
“Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane
and it all falls down simultaneously like white needle tears from the sky.
“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.”
—Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment (via darkcanuck)
“I can’t stand it to think my life is going so fast and I’m not really living it.”
—Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises (via larmoyante)
“We are very fond of books. You can learn nearly everything from them that rabbits can’t teach you.”
—Alan Snow, Here Be Monsters! (via prettybooks)
“Read books for pleasure. Buy old books you hope to dive into someday, even if you never do. Cherish the weight of a book on your chest as you fall asleep on a lazy winter afternoon. Books will still be here in 1,000 years. Pinterest will not.”
—A graduation message from an analog dad to a digital son (via slim)
“Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.” —W. S. Merwin, “Separation” (via proustitute)
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.” —W. S. Merwin, “Separation” (via proustitute)
“Love. Fall in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you write. The word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for.”
—
Ray Bradbury
(via fine-and-bold)
“And lastly from that period I remember riding in a taxi one afternoon between very tall buildings under a mauve and rosy sky; I began to bawl because I had everything I wanted and knew I would never be so happy again.”
—F. Scott Fitzgerald (via romanholidays)
“When I read a book I seem to read it with my eyes only, but now and then I come across a passage, perhaps only a phrase, which has a meaning for me, and it becomes part of me.”
—W. Somerset Maugham (1874 - 1965)
“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I’m gazing at a distant star. It’s dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago.
Maybe the star doesn’t even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.” —Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun (via 4mbivalent)
Maybe the star doesn’t even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.” —Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun (via 4mbivalent)
“Le dijo a Buda: yo quiero felicidad. Buda contestó: primero retira el “Yo” eso es el ego, después aparte el “Quiero” eso es el deseo. Ahora mira… sólo te queda, la felicidad.”
—Siddharta Gautama. (via desajuste-psicologico)
