kafka-bug
kafka-bug
quotes and stuff
101 posts
i ran out of post-its20, she/her
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kafka-bug · 7 months ago
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Poetry is what helps me remember that even in my fragments, I am whole.
- Jennifer Huang
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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Then there was the terror; the overwhelming incapacity, one’s parents giving it into one’s hands, this life, to be lived to the end.
Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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-Patricia Smith
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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a twitter thread that actually killed me
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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The beauty of painted murals
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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-Landscape at Port-Villez-
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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— A. Y.
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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~ Augusto Cury
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
William Wordsworth, Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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being with you, the way you treat my body, it changes me in a way i can’t properly explain. the way you are makes me feel like i’m strong enough to reclaim the parts of me that have felt so broken for so long. like i can find a path back to loving myself.
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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“What we want in love is release from our beliefs, not confirmation in them. That is where the ‘courage of love’ comes in – to have the courage to commit yourself to something you don’t believe, because it is what – for the moment, anyway – thrills you by its audacity.”
— Philip Larkin, Letters to Monica
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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@lovesdaya
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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do you even realize i've written poetry about you?
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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I wished for the days to be more like the nights.
Exciting, filled with endless possibilities,
colder. I hate the heat.
But warmth;
I long for the warmth no day or night could provide.
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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kafka-bug · 1 year ago
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“Suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, A Nice Quiet Place
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