alt-her - Tumblr blog

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I’m a million cameras, even when I’m sleeping, clicking, clicking, every second something is growing and changing. We are little arrogant flashes in the grand magnificent scheme.

Max Porter, Lanny

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Janet Fitch, White Oleander

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— F. Scott Fitzgerald, from The Love of the Last Tycoon (via lunamonchtuna)

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Mahmoud Darwish, Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (trans. Ibrahim Muhawi) [ID'd]

on context: "[set during] the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon and the shelling of Beirut [...] Memory for Forgetfulness is an extended reflection on the invasion and its political and historical dimensions. It is also a journey into personal and collective memory. What is the meaning of exile? What is the role of the writer in time of war? What is the relationship of writing (memory) to history (forgetfulness)?" (source)

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D. H. Lawrence, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of D. H. Lawrence

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Belladonna of Sadness (1973) dir. Eiichi Yamamoto

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Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Henry Miller, featured in A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-1953

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Vladimir Mayakovsky, from a letter featured in "Love in the Heart of Everything; The Correspondence between Vladimir Mayakovsky & Lili Brik, 1915-1930,"

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“I am always between two worlds, always in conflict. I would like sometimes to rest, to be at peace, to choose a nook, make a final choice, but I can't. Some nameless, undescribable fear and anxiety keeps me on the move. On certain evenings like this, I would like to feel whole. Only a half of me is sitting by the fire.”

— Anaïs Nin, from “The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934.”

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Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours

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And the days are not full enough

And the nights are not full enough

And life slips by like a field mouse

Not shaking the grass.

Ezra Pound

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i can turn you into poetry but i cannot make you love me.

(creds will be added in a hot sec! my bad y'all ;p)

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Henry Miller, in a letter to Anaïs Nin, d. March 4, 1932, from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953

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— Stevie Edwards, from “Good Grief.”

[Text ID: I am not good with fragile things, but I swear I will love all that you unearth for me—your stinted roots, all the tender you’ve long buried.]