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Penda’s Fen (1974) | dir. Alan Clarke

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I do not know myself sometimes, or how to measure and name and count out the grains that make me what I am. 

Virginia Woolf, from ‘The Waves’

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Spined Feather, Jacques Brun

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—Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

[That’s what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.]

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Bavaria. Germany

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“Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”

— Henry David Thoreau (b. 12 July 1817)

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“A library is a good place to go when you feel unhappy, for there, in a book, you may find encouragement and comfort. A library is a good place to go when you feel bewildered or undecided, for there, in a book, you may have your question answered. Books are good company, in sad times and happy times, for books are people – people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.”

— E. B. White (b. 11 July 1899)

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— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra

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via

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“Life’s under no obligation to give us what we expect.”

— Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind (published on this day in 1936)

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A Sunny Sunday Morning, Colley Whisson

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My dear love, my priceless joy, you haven’t forgotten me, have you?

— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra

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How can I explain to you, my happiness, my golden, wonderful happiness, how much I am all yours – with all my memories, poems, outbursts, inner whirlwinds? Or explain that I cannot write a word without hearing how you will pronounce it – and can’t recall a single trifle I’ve lived through without regret – so sharp! – that we haven’t lived through it together – whether it’s the most, the most personal, intransmissible – or only some sunset or other at the bend of a road – you see what I mean, my happiness?

— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra

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Brussels is glowing Part Deux - lovely little bookstore we walked into

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Alina Malina