Marie-Claire Bancquart, from “I Walk in the Solitude of Books,” wr. c. 1963
My thoughts. My wants.
Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980
(via maliavka)
“I’m very peaceful, momentarily, this evening.”— Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry c. July 1935 featured in “Diaries,”
“I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise.”— Anaïs Nin, The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4: 1944-1947 (via autobibliographies)
(via mudwerks)
“It’s like that, sometimes. Suddenly you want to end it all.”— Magda Szabó, from “The Door,” published c. November 1987
“You’ll wither like the magnolia. No kisses burnt on your thighs, no fingers in your hair, playing it like a harp.”— Federico García Lorca, from ‘Elegy’, Selected Poems (trans. Martin Sorrell)
“Dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes,”— Arthur Rimbaud, from Selected Poems & Prose; “The Impossible,”
I make trouble, rustling the cold,
wild, if you step in me, I won’t forgive. I
ruin, I hurt—— Emily Corwin, from “tincture,” tenderling
(Source: lifeinpoetry)
