Stolen Word
“You must write every single day of your life. You must lurk in libraries to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. May you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”
—Ray Bradbury (via yellowbirdflying)
June 2013
23 posts
The Bird With The Coppery, Keen Claws by Wallace Stevens
Above the forest of the parakeets,
A parakeet of parakeets prevails,
A pip of life amid a mort of tails.
(The rudiments of tropics are around,
Aloe of ivory, pear of rusty rind.)
His lids are white because his eyes are blind.
He is not paradise of parakeets,
Of his gold ether, golden alguazil,
Except because he broods there and is still.
Panache upon panache, his tails deploy
Upward and outward, in green-vented forms,
His tip a drop of water full of storms.
But though the turbulent tinges undulate
As his pure intellect applies its laws,
He moves not on his coppery, keen claws.
He munches a dry shell while he exerts
His will, yet never ceases, perfect cock,
To flare, in the sun-pallor of his rock.
- Wallace Stevens
“I remember a dawn when my heart
got tied in a lock of your hair.
My soul heard something from your soul
my heart drank from your spring
I drowned and the flood swept me..!” —Rumi
got tied in a lock of your hair.
My soul heard something from your soul
my heart drank from your spring
I drowned and the flood swept me..!” —Rumi
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
— Haruki Murakami
“For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.”
—Virginia Woolf
'Song,' a poem by Allen Ginsberg, read by RM.
‘Song,’ a poem by Allen Ginsberg, read by RM.
via: viciousminuteshour:
“The great tapestries of trees had darkened to ghosts back at the last edge of twilight. The early moon had drenched the arches with pale blue and weaving over the night, in and out of the gossamer rifts of moon, swept a song, a song with more than a hint of sadness, infinitely transient, infinitely regretful.”
—F. Scott Fitzgerald, “This Side of Paradise” (via seabois)
“You take somebody that cries their goddam eyes out over phoney stuff in the movies, and nine times out of ten they’re mean bastards at heart.”
—J.D. Salinger - The Catcher in the Rye
“It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.”
—― Chuck Palahniuk, Diary
