Not for these lovely blooms that prank your chambers did I come. Indeed,
I could have loved you better in the dark;
That is to say, in rooms less bright with roses, rooms more casual, less aware
Of history in the wings about to enter with benevolent air
On ponderous tiptoe, at the cue “Proceed.”
Not that I like the ash-trays over-crowded and the place in a mess,
Or the monastic cubicle too unctuously austere and stark,
But partly that these formal garlands for our Eighth Street Aphrodite are a bit too Greek,
And partly that to make the poor walls rich with our unaided loveliness
Would have been more chic.
Yet here I am, having told you of my quarrel with the taxi-driver over a line Of Milton, and you laugh; and you are you, none other.
Your laughter pelts my skin with small delicious blows.
But I am perverse: I wish you had not scrubbed—with pumice, I suppose-
The tobacco stains from your beautiful fingers. And I wish I did not feel like your mother.
- Rendezvous by Edna St. Vincent Millay (via iamapatientboy)
- Rustin Cohle, True Detective, “After You’ve Gone” (Season 1, Episode 7)
- John Berger, The Museum of Desire (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)
- James Hillman (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
“Women have served all these centuries as looking glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size.”
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
- Robert Motherwell, ‘The Painter and the Audience’, 1954; ‘Abstract Expressionism, Creators and Critics’ (Edited by Clifford Ross), Abrahams Publishers, New York 1990, p. 108. (via magictransistor)
- Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (via elige)
- Medbh McGuckian, from “Between the 8 and the 9” in Captain Lavender (Wake Forest University Press, 1995)
When they tell you
‘Real life is not the time
stop and spin the wheel
of your body.
Follow the dust-whirl
beneath your heels.
Milling around only tracks it in.
- C. J. Sage, from “Manifesto,” in Bateau (Vol. 5, No. 1, 2013)
- Mary Rakow (via ryanvandalinda)
- Aldous Huxley (via drunk-on-books)
- Jean-Paul Sartre (via likeafieldmouse)