(for a film)

violentwavesofemotion:

“I used to consider absence a lack. And I ignorantly regretted that lack. Today I have nothing to regret. There is no lack in absence. Absence is a presence in me. And I feel it, a perfect whiteness, so close and cozy in my arms that I laugh, dance, and invent glad exclamations, since absence, this embodied absence, can’t be taken away from me.”

Carlos Drummond de Andrade, tr. by Mark Strand, from “Absence,”

(via kehrouac)

aegeanesea:

“Charm me. Furiously. Torment me. In detail.”

— Hermann Hesse, from Crisis: Pages from a Diary; “The Seducer,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)

(via oeut)

polykowiak:

“…there are moments when I am almost frightened at the way you have invaded me […] I feel strangely exposed to you. Sometimes I seem to stand aside and marvel at your way of touching me here, now there.”

— Anaïs Nin in a letter to Henry Miller, August 4, 1932, A Literate Passion.
(via parisi0n)

(via oeut)

ciriofthewolf:

“Oh we’re a mess, poor humans, poor flesh—hybrids of angels and animals, dolls with diamonds stuffed inside them We’ve been to the moon and we’re still fighting over Jerusalem. Let me tell you what I do know: I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multi-vocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper.”

— Richard Siken, Black Telephone  (via briqou)

(Source: anotherblogaboutquotes-blog, via oeut)

lifeinpoetry:

                   I ran and I ran through the 2 a.m. streets.

It was my way of breaking free. I was anything but history.
I was the wind.

— Joy Harjo, from “Running,” published in The New Yorker

(Source: newyorker.com, via egopusher)