thedeadpoetsraven

[thedeadpoetsraven]

It was like walking into the sun, being with you, it was like walking into the sun for the first time after a terribly long winter.

— Unknown

[thedeadpoetsraven]

I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

[thedeadpoetsraven]

If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.

— Joan Powers

[thedeadpoetsraven]

To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.

— Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

[thedeadpoetsraven]

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛, 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚.

— Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

[thedeadpoetsraven]

Some loves are like apples—easy, sweet, soon gone.

Ours was a pomegranate: hard-earned, messy, but worth every drop.

— Unknown

[thedeadpoetsraven]

Tell them that you weren't hungry, tell them you followed the pomegranates seeds because they tasted like blood, like love.

— Pauline Albanese

[thedeadpoetsraven]

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

— Emily Dickinson

[thedeadpoetsraven]

I have so much to say to you that I am afraid I shall tell you nothing.

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

[thedeadpoetsraven]

𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ.

— Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

[thedeadpoetsraven]

Thanks to art, instead of seeing one world only, our own, we see that world multiply itself and we have at our disposal as many worlds as there are original artists, worlds more different one from the other than those which revolve in infinite space, worlds which, centuries after the extinction of the fire from which their light first emanated, whether it is called Rembrandt or Vermeer, send us still each one its special radiance.

— Marcel Proust

[thedeadpoetsraven]

𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠, ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠; 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠.

— William Shakespeare, Macbeth

[thedeadpoetsraven]

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫: 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧?

— Clarice Lispector

[thedeadpoetsraven]

Why love what you will lose? There is nothing else to love.

— Louise Glück, The Triumph of Achilles

[thedeadpoetsraven]

He felt as if he were alone in the world, and yet he was not alone; for all the ghosts of the past were with him.

― Nathaniel Hawthorne

[thedeadpoetsraven]

𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝐼 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑔𝑒. 𝐼𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒... 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠.

― Edgar Allan Poe

[thedeadpoetsraven]

Movie: Zorba the Greek, 1964