February 2012
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“I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple...”
– John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via bookmania)
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“I wanted
the past to go away, I wanted
to leave it, like another country; I...”
– Mary Oliver, from “Dogfish” in Dream Work (via proustitute)
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Gemini ♊ - Ideal Mate
daphneemarie:
astrologyforyou:
Gemini’s ideal mate is someone who:
Is interested in your insights, and has something more to add
Respects your curious mind, and need for independence
Is not overly emotional
Stabilizes your restless nature
Is not afraid of change
Gemini is most compatible with:
Libra
Aquarius
Leo
And he is.
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“My solitude is my treasure, the best thing I have.”
– A.S.Byatt (Possession)
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Yusef Komunyakaa, "Facing It" →
My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite. I said I wouldn’t dammit: No tears. I’m stone. I’m flesh. My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night slanted against morning. I turn this way—the stone lets me go. I turn that way—I’m inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on the light to make a difference. I go down...
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Yusef Komunyakaa, "Providence" →
I walked away with your face stolen from a crowded room, & the sting of requited memory lived beneath my skin. A name raw on my tongue, in my brain, a glimpse nestled years later like a red bird among wet leaves on a dull day. A face. The tilt of a head. Dark lipstick. Aletheia. The unknown marked on a shoulder, night weather in our heads. I pushed out of this half-stunned yes, begging light,...
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Galway Kinnell, "Wait" →
Wait, for now. Distrust everything, if you have to. But trust the hours. Haven’t they carried you everywhere, up to now? Personal events will become interesting again. Hair will become interesting. Pain will become interesting. Buds that open out of season will become lovely again. Second-hand gloves will become lovely again, their memories are what give them the need for other hands. And the...
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Pablo Neruda, "A Song of Despair" →
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.
Deserted like the wharves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.
In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose.
You swallowed everything,...
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Sonnet of Sweet Complaint →
Never let me lose the marvel of your statue-like eyes, or the accent the solitary rose of your breath places on my cheek at night. I am afraid of being, on this shore, a branchless trunk, and what I most regret is having no flower, pulp, or clay for the worm of my despair. If you are my hidden treasure, if you are my cross, my dampened pain, if I am a dog, and you alone my master, never let me...
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“She laughs, but there is no sound. It’s all in silence —she is made out of...”
– James Salter, A Sport and a Pastime (via bookdweeb)
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“About distance. People rarely believe
It exists. Do you wake at night...”
– Malinda Markham, from “Just Past This Road Lives a Figure Imprisoned in a Tower” (via awritersruminations)
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“Everything felt too near, yet eerily distance at the same time. The outside...”
– Linda Grant, The Clothes on Their Backs
(via distantheartbeats)
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