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I feel like this 1930s diary is a sadly accurate summation of the last five years of my life.
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Margaret Atwood, ‘February’, Morning in the Burned House
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“Praise the light of late November, the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones. Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees; though they are clothed in night, they do not despair. Praise what little there’s left: the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls, shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory, the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky that hasn’t cracked yet. Praise the sun slipping down behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum, Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy fallen world; it’s all we have, and it’s never enough.”
— Barbara Crooker, “Praise Song” (via litverve)
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This is the Magical 11/11 & 11:11 Post
May you receive what you wish for with love, grace, & ease and keep your heart and mind open.
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Anyway it’s scorpio season, so time to hold grudges and choke on your feelings until it all explodes in an exquisitely destructive rage!
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“I will cut adrift—I will sit on pavements and drink coffee—I will dream; I will take my mind out of its iron cage and let it swim—this fine October.”
— Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry c. October 1927 featured in “Diaries,”
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“Autumn approaches and the heart begins to dream–”
— Bashō, from The Sound of Water: Haiku by Bashō, Buson, Issa, and Other Poets (trans. Sam Hamill with illustrations by Kaji Aso)
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There is beauty in every season of life🍁🍂🍁🍂
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Sunrise with moon. Mist is rolling across the lake.
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