January 2012
475 posts
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“The city, however, does not tell its past, but contains it like the lines of a...”
– Italo Calvino quote (via oenggun)
December 2011
233 posts
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“Then, for that moment, she had seen an illumination; a match burning in a...”
– Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse. (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
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“Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn’t do
crackle...”
– Naomi Shihab Nye, from “Burning the Old Year” (via proustitute)
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They stopped near the Theatre Bobino, in front of a house which was approached by way of a passage. In an attic window, between pots of nasturtiums and sweet peas, a young woman appeared, bareheaded, in her stays, leaning on the roof gutter.
‘Good-day my angel, good day my duck,’ said Hussonnet, blowing kisses to her.
He kicked open the gate and disappeared.
—Gustav Flaubert,...
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The woman is sitting at the bar, wearing her Chinese hat, holding a notebook and crying.
She opens the letter again. “Stop running away,” it says. “Come back to your real life.” A writer’s real life is when and where she is writing, she thinks. She is not running away in these pages, she is running forward, embracing her real life.
In the book it will say,...
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“And the deer -
how beautiful they are,
as though their bodies did not impede...”
– Louise Gluck from ‘Messengers’ (via gravellyrun)
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“The visionary glance is lit up by the rapidly departing past. That is, the...”
– Walter Benjamin from ‘Theses’ (via gravellyrun)
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I recite part of a poem a young poet once told me:
Love is a shadow
How you cry after it
Listen: there are its hooves, it has
gone off like a horse.
“That’s Sylvia Plath, Sylvia.”
“Poor darling Sylvia,” she says , and takes my hand.
—Carole Maso, The American Woman in the Chinese Hat
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She begged me to turn away. Not to look at that red road. But I looked anyway. Because as hard as I try, I do not know how to look away.
—Carole Maso, The American Woman in the Chinese Hat
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Her American friends come to Vence and they walk around the back streets looking at the villas.
I don’t tell them that I have talked to her. I don’t tell them about the man with the cheveux longs. I wouldn’t know what to say.
—Carole Maso, The American Woman in the Chinese Hat
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There’s something bizarre about an American writing in a notebook and crying. Something unpredictable in her, deranged.
—Carole Maso, The American Woman in the Chinese Hat
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Except for the cahier, and the French workbook, and the Chinese hat, and all the crying, I am just like a resident of Vence these days.
—Carole Maso, The American Woman in the Chinese Hat
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“We live in a culture that makes it seem as though having contradictions is bad;...”
– bell hooks (via negrosunshine)
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“Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless...”
–
Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet (trans. Stephen Mitchell)
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Anyone interested in the application of Che Guevara’s philosophy — take a look at Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed.
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“Apparently those who are happy can only enjoy themselves because the unhappy...”
– Anton Chekhov (via whyexistence)
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“A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while...”
– Gaston Bachelard (via vauriele)
“There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won’t...”
– Neil Gaiman (via myunreliablejournal)
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“The memories would slam against me like the waves of an incoming tide, sweeping...”
– Norwegian wood, Haruki Murakami (via cherminlam)
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A still, small voice was speaking to him, but it was saying things he didn’t want to hear.
—Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot
