On such sunny, sad mornings I always feel in my bones that there is a chance yet of my not being excluded from Heaven, and that salvation may be granted to me despite the frozen mud and horror in my heart.

Vladimir Nabokov - Pale Fire (via mirroir)

(via mirroir)

(via psychonautical)

We receive and we lose, and we must try to achieve gratitude; and with that gratitude to embrace with whole hearts whatever of life that remains after the losses.

Andre Dubus II, Broken Vessels. Epigraph from The Examined Life: How We Lose and Find Ourselves by Stephen Grosz (via epigraphic)

I warned you clearly
An omnivorous poet,
I eat everything.

Elvira Riveiro Tobío, from “Carnia Haikai,” trans. Adrian West (via proustitute)

I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.

Virginia Woolf, The Diary of Virginia Woolf, Vol. 1: 1915-1919 (via wethinkwedream)

(via milkwoods)


The Sevres Vase,  James Jebusa Shannon 


The Sevres Vase,  James Jebusa Shannon 

(via allthenight-tide)

I am alone here in my own mind.
There is no map
and there is no road.

so slow to know
what you know and don’t know.
Still thinking you hear low song
in the wind in the eaves,
story in your breathing,
grief in the heard dove at evening,
and plentitude in the unseen bird
tolling at morning. Still slow to tell
memory from imagination, heaven
from here and now,
hell from here and now,
death from childhood, and both of them
from dreaming.

Li-Young Lee, from “A Hymn to Childhood,” Behind My Eyes (W. W. Norton and Company Inc., 2008)

(via swanfucker)

My goal is to experience the depths of life, to understand people and how they live, and to express this through my art. All my other accomplishments mean nothing to me. If I can only create a masterpiece that achieves the goal I’ve fixed my inward gaze upon during my creative journey, my life will not have been wasted.

You should be with somebody who makes you forget what it felt like to be sad.