booklover - Tumblr blog

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And then the day faded. We were dreaming, waiting for night.

Louise Glück, A Village Life; from ‘Midsummer’

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🚃📚

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found a bookstore in the middle of rome.

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“I have never been in despair about the world. I am enraged by it. I can't afford despair. You can't tell the children there's no hope.” - Baldwin

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“All memory is individual, unreproducible—it dies with each person. What is called collective memory is not a remembering but a stipulating: that this is important, and this is the story about how it happened […].”

— Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others (via exhaled-spirals)

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Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a letter featured in The Letters of Edna St. Vincent Millay

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Anaïs Nin, Linotte: The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1914-1920

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abitbooked on Instagram

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In Chapter 6, it was suggested that an inner world of phantasy exists in every human being, and that interests in which imagination play a part are, in many individuals, as important as interpersonal relationships in giving meaning to their lives. There is nothing pathological in the employment of imagination. We cannot dispense with phantasy: if we could, we should lose much of what makes us distinctively human.

Solitude: A Return to the Self - Anthony Storr.

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jessica pineda

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Thomas Mann, from “Death in Venice”, originally published c. 1912.

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My wowan, my mother, my comfort blanket

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Sylvia Plath at Rock Lake, Algonquin Provincial Park, Ontario, Canada, photograph by Ted Hughes, July 1959.

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Second hand book haul 📚

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Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night. ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke