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All men are liars, certainly. I just let them sit in that chair and lie till they get tired of lying. Then they begin to tell the truth.

Carl Jung, according to Elizabeth Shepley Sergeant, “Doctor Jung: A Portrait in 1931”, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, page 52 (via lakanen)

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“To find one person inexhaustible is simply the definition of love,”

— Iris Murdoch, from “Under The Net,” published c. September 1954

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“I relish solitude. Solitude, if anything, is my only conviction.”

— Susan Sontag, from “The Benefactor,” published c. October 1963 (via violentwavesofemotion)

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“I promised you us in the blue, in the foliage, on green grass, head to head, cool cherries on each cheek, and tranquility that smells lazily of hay.”

— Yevgeny Yevtushenko, tr. by Albert C. Todd, from “Irpen,” wr. c. 1961

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“Keep this thought handy when you feel a fit of rage coming on—it isn’t manly to be enraged. Rather, gentleness and civility are more human, and therefore manlier. A real man doesn’t give way to anger and discontent, and such a person has strength, courage, and endurance—unlike the angry and complaining. The nearer a man comes to a calm mind, the closer he is to strength.” – Marcus Aurelius

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“To your mad world—one answer: I refuse.”

— Marina Tsvetaeva (trns. Ilya Kaminsky), Poems to Czechoslovakia (via seamusheaney)

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I ako negde postoji neko ko se oseća dovoljno ludim da poželi da bude pisac, reći ću: samo napred, pljuni u oko suncu, udri po tim tipkama, to je najbolje moguće ludilo, stolećima je potrebna pomoć, ljudski rod vapi za svetlošću, hazardom i smehom. Daj im to. Ima dovoljno reči za sve nas.

Čarls Bukovski

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an old victorian farmhouse on a few acres of land is all i need

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“They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.”

— Zora Neale Hurston, from “Their Eyes Were Watching God,” (1937)

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To stand on my own two feet again, to fight alone, to take myself back, to depend on no one.

Anaïs Nin, in a journal entry from The Diary of Anaïs Nin: Vol. 1, 1931-1934 (via luthienne)

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My restlessness, which was vague and lyrical, has become sharp-pointed and intolerably clear.

Anaïs Nin, in a diary entry from The Diary of Anaïs Nin: Vol. 1, 1931-1934 (via luthienne)

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Surely spring has been returned to me, this time not as a lover but a messenger of death, yet it is still spring, it is still meant tenderly.

Louise Gluck, from “Vita Nova” featured in Vita Nova (via watchoutforintellect)

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Time wasted is poison.

May Sarton, from a diary entry featured in Journal of a Solitude: The Journals of May Sarton (via watchoutforintellect)

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…cure the soul of its greed for love…

Anne Sexton, from “The Big Boots of Pain” featured in The Complete Poems (via watchoutforintellect)

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I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures to the end and far past the end. If this is my end, I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

Robinson Jeffers, from Be Angry At The Sun: Poems; “Contemplation of the Sword” (via existential-celestial)

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I like you; your eyes are full of language.

Anne Sexton, Letter to Anne Clarke, July 3rd, 1964 (via vemoedalen)

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What is to endure long grows slowly.

Arthur Schopenhauer

(via

somnolentdesolation

)