Ask me anything
You are here. Find me.
"Sometimes, when I'm intimate with someone, I try too hard to be honest and then end up lying. It's like, if there's no truth then the lie is multiplied with every explanation. And it's like you can't tell someone what you want if you don't know what you want."
-- Stephen Elliott
You are here. Find me.
"Sometimes, when I'm intimate with someone, I try too hard to be honest and then end up lying. It's like, if there's no truth then the lie is multiplied with every explanation. And it's like you can't tell someone what you want if you don't know what you want."
-- Stephen Elliott
HEART OF DARKNESS, page 013 Title: “Something like an emissary of light, something like a lower sort of apostle.” (via Spudd 64 / Matt Kish)
2 hours ago
5 notes
“It occurred to him that all the flowers he had seen in the glass cases that first night must have gone the same way, long before this. It was only one splendid breath they had, in spite of their brave mockery at the winter outside the glass; and it was a losing game in the end, it seemed, this revolt against the homilies by which the world is run.”
—Willa Cather, “Paul’s Case”
(via thetinhouse)
2 hours ago
15 notes
But now it is still light and the blackbirds are singing
as if their voices are the only scissors left in this world.
as if their voices are the only scissors left in this world.
Do you ever think about how, at the moment of the [birthday] candles, time stands still, even as the moments carry away the smoke? It’s like the fire of burning love. Do you ever wonder why so many people have things they don’t deserve but how absurd all those things are to begin with? Do you really think a wish can come true if you never ever ever ever ever ever tell it to anyone?
“Referential” by Lorrie Moore, from The New Yorker, May 28, 2012
14 hours ago
0 notes
More and more
wanting to learn
how to leave things be.
Nothing taken, or left behind.
Heart returned to the granite mountains of its home.
wanting to learn
how to leave things be.
Nothing taken, or left behind.
Heart returned to the granite mountains of its home.
Jane Hirshfield, from “White Curtain in Sunlight and Wind”, in The Lives of the Heart (via growing-orbits)
17 hours ago
39 notes
A month old Somali wild ass stands in the enclosure at the Ramat Gan safari park near Tel Aviv, Israel. Photograph: Ariel Schalit/AP
2 hours ago
404 notes
What can I say that I have not said before?
So I’ll say it again.
The leaf has a song in it.
Stone is the face of patience.
Inside the river there is an unfinishable story
and you are somewhere in it
and it will never end until all ends.
Take your busy heart to the art museum and the
chamber of commerce
but take it also to the forest.
The song you heard singing in the leaf when you
were a child
is singing still.
So I’ll say it again.
The leaf has a song in it.
Stone is the face of patience.
Inside the river there is an unfinishable story
and you are somewhere in it
and it will never end until all ends.
Take your busy heart to the art museum and the
chamber of commerce
but take it also to the forest.
The song you heard singing in the leaf when you
were a child
is singing still.
Mary Oliver, from “What Can I Say” (via growing-orbits)
14 hours ago
69 notes
Will you understand
if not forgive
that I expect to be loved
beyond deserving, as always?
if not forgive
that I expect to be loved
beyond deserving, as always?
Stephen Dunn, closing lines from “Letter Home”, in New & Selected Poems: 1974-1994, with thanks to apoetreflects (via growing-orbits)
(via growing-orbits)
17 hours ago
93 notes
