darktalewhisperer

[darktalewhisperer]

I also remember that the smallest gesture of affection would bring a lump to my throat, whether it was directed at me or at someone else.

Bernhard Schlink, The Reader (translated by Carol Brown Janeway)

[darktalewhisperer]

the tension between me and watching Tangled for the 1932748274th time

[darktalewhisperer]

Cathy Linh Che, from Go Forget your father//Friedrich Nietzsche// Richey Edwards// // Moss Angel, Girldirt Angelfog// Rainer Maria Rilke, Fragment of an Elegy,// Leila Miccolis, till death do us part.

[darktalewhisperer]

"Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place."

— Robert Brault

[darktalewhisperer]

I am no words and no meaning without your presence. All stories and no laughter without your touch.

[darktalewhisperer]

What is a person, if not the marks they leave behind?

V.E. Schwab, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

[darktalewhisperer]

"After all, I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."

L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

[darktalewhisperer]

What if pain – like love – is just a place brave people visit?

— Glennon Doyle

[darktalewhisperer]

Isn't it odd how much fatter a book gets when you've read it several times? As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells...and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower...both strange and familiar.

Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

[darktalewhisperer]

soltreis

[darktalewhisperer]

"Rage, maybe rage would lift me up, make me stand, make me walk-"

- Marlon James, Black Leopard, Red Wolf

[darktalewhisperer]

"It doesn't make sense to call ourselves ugly, because we don't really see ourselves. We don't watch ourselves sleeping in bed, curled up and silent with chests rising and falling with our own rhythm. We don't see ourselves reading a book, eyes fluttering and glowing. You don't see yourself looking at someone with love and care inside your heart. There's no mirror in your way when you're laughing and smiling and happiness is leaking out of you. You would know exactly how bright and beautiful you are if you saw yourself in the moments where you are truly yourself."

[darktalewhisperer]

You who know me, tell me who I am.

Faiz Ahmed Faiz, from 'Blackout' (trans. Naomi Lazard)

[darktalewhisperer]

And you became like the coffee, in the deliciousness, and the bitterness and the addiction.

Mahmoud Darwish

[darktalewhisperer]

Reading in bed can be heaven assuming you can get just the right amount of light on the page and aren't prone to spilling your coffee or cognac on the sheets.

— Stephen King, on writing: A memoir of the craft

[darktalewhisperer]

You're truly infinite unlike most celestial things that shall burn off a billion years later. The Sun, the moon, the stars and the oceans all reside in your ribcage, and the butterflies in your stomach. There is my poetry at the tips of your adorable fingers. You're an emblem for light, I claim this boldly cause I've seen the sun rise in your throat, blooming flowers. I ventured to your collarbone and saw waterfall pouring down to your feet.

—darktalewhisperer, Excerpts From The Letters He Writes Me

[darktalewhisperer]

"How can I describe my life to you? I think a lot, listen to music. I'm fond of flowers."

— Susan Sontag, from "Death Kit," published c. January 1967