36"You have
my heart.
And I could
analyze
that —
but I
won’t.
For it
stands
so
unbearably
complete
on
its own." - Frida Kahlo, from The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait
my heart.
And I could
analyze
that —
but I
won’t.
For it
stands
so
unbearably
complete
on
its own." - Frida Kahlo, from The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait
63"I have tried so hard to love, and I can, up to a certain point, and then no further." - Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
50"I just tell you and though I don’t sound like it I’ve got plenty of sense; there ain’t any answer, there ain’t going to be any answer, there never has been any answer, now that’s the answer." - Gertrude Stein, from Brewsie And Willie
309"We are not allowed this. We are allowed to be deeply into basketball, or Buddhism, or Star Trek, or jazz, but we are not allowed to be deeply sad. Grief is a thing that we are encouraged to “let go of,” to “move on from,” and we are told specifically how this should be done. Countless well-intentioned friends, distant family members, hospital workers, and strangers I met at parties recited the famous five stages of grief to me: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I was alarmed by how many people knew them, how deeply this single definition of the grieving process had permeated our cultural consciousness. Not only was I supposed to feel these five things, I was meant to feel them in that order and for a prescribed amount of time." - Cheryl Strayed
(Source: poemsbydes)
A life-long affair: Ernest Hemingway & his beloved cat named Boissy, photographed by Ken Heyman.
129
“Every flower in my heart becomes an ice fern.”
—Soren Kierkegaard, Papers and Journals. 37 II A 641.
69"I love all those who are as heavy drops." - Friedrich Nietzsche, from Thus Spoke Zarathustra
239"Keep me up until five only because all your stars are out, and for no other reason." - J.D Salinger, from Seymour: An Introduction
158"Everything is, unbelievingly, unfolding into another spring, when the damn world makes us think we are as young as we ever were and deceives us by pale lucid skies and the sudden opening of little leaves." - Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals
/ past
