February 2012
101 posts
2-27
scottiehughes:
some of us are made to soil a page with the coils and flips of curt whining emotion; some of us are made to make sweet
minstrels of the slowest driest of readers; some of us are made to give reality in fiction; some of us are made just to fill empty spaces.
“Lovers, Lunatics and poets are all made of the same stuff.”
– Bhagat Singh (via terramantra)
“Speaking to you and not
Knowing if you are there
Is not too difficult.
My...”
– from Dear Bryan Wynter, W.S. Graham (via cartographe)
“These woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles...”
– Robert Frost, from Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening (via libraryland)
“We spoke all night in tongues,
in fingertips, in teeth.”
–
Robert Hass, from “Spring”
(via the-final-sentence)
“Here is a handful
of shadow I have brought back to you:
this decay, this hope,...”
– Margaret Atwood, from “Mushrooms” in Selected Poems: Volume 2 (via proustitute)
“She carried her pocket Shakespeare about with her, and met life fortified by the...”
– Virginia Woolf, Night and Day (via sketchofthepast)
“I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. It...”
– Bukowski (via astrometry)
“Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt
at being told that it is a fragment...”
– Rabindranath Tagore (via chatoyance)
“A truth should exist,
it should not be used
like this. If I love you
is...”
– Margaret Atwood (via cartographe)
“I am really only myself when I’m somebody else whom I have endowed with these...”
– Zelda Fitzgerald (via cartographe)
Passing to Where?
Sometimes I take out my passport, look at the photograph of myself (not very good, etc.) just to see if I exist
— Richard Brautigan
kokothebarbarian:
ST. JAMES INFIRMARY BLUES (Cab...
“Often the best parts of life were when you weren’t doing anything at all, just...”
– Pulp, Charles Bukowski (via mocasia)
The 20 Most Beautiful Bookstores in the World →
“what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.”
– Charles Bukowski (via cartographe)
“Is it an empty house, the body alone
with its weary old clothes
or its bullet...”
– Christopher Howell, Listen (via grammatolatry)
“And what does it mean — dying? Perhaps man has a hundred senses, and only the...”
– Anton Chekhov (via dezasete)
“Don’t wake up a woman in love. Let her dream, so that she does not weep when she...”
– Mark Twain (via darkcanuck)
“Yet the one I think of most often,
the one that dangles from me like a locket,...”
– from Marginalia, Billy Collins (via cartographe)
“Today I found a scrap of paper
where you’d scrawled your name.
I hate the...”
– Charles Jensen, excerpt from Debts (via holdonmagnolia)
clavicola:
If London Were Like Venice, 1899
“For Valerie
All girls should have a poem
written for them even if
we have to...”
– Richard Brautigan (via clavicola)
clavicola:
I want a butt that you’d write love poems for.
“I don’t know what it is,
But I distrust myself
When I start to like a girl
A...”
– “It’s Raining In Love,” Richard Brautigan (via clavicola)