thedreamingviolet - Tumblr blog

[thedreamingviolet]

Peeling the Paint Of Yesterday's Dreams

if unfulfilled they get old they dry out lose their color faded by regret their edges curl waiting to be stripped away and forgotten it takes effort to clear the wall of good intentions

[thedreamingviolet]

You need to draw and make art or else all the images will stay in your head and you'll get sick

[thedreamingviolet]

[thedreamingviolet]

“there is no moral. the wolf eats you one day and until it does, the forest is beautiful.”

[thedreamingviolet]

[thedreamingviolet]

virginia woolf's 1931 new years resolutions : "to have none. not to be tied. to be free & kindly with myself. sometimes to read, sometimes not to read. to go out, yes—but stay at home in spite of being asked. as for clothes, i think to buy good ones."

[thedreamingviolet]

{—Amy Lowell, from The Complete Poetical Works of Amy Lowell, "The Fruit Garden Path " // Mahmoud Darwish }

[thedreamingviolet]

Jeanette Winterson, from Weight: The Myth of Atlas and Heracles

[thedreamingviolet]

[thedreamingviolet]

Virginia Woolf, from The Waves

[thedreamingviolet]

Violets resist the perfumer’s art and always have. It is possible to make a high-quality perfume from violets, but it’s exceedingly difficult and expensive. Only the wealthiest people could afford it; but there have always been empresses, dandies, trend setters, and extravagants enough to keep perfumers busy. The thing about violets, which many people find cloying to the point of nausea, is that no response to them lasts long; as Shakespeare put it, they’re:

Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute.

Violets contain ionone, which short-circuits our sense of smell. The flower continues to exude its fragrance, but we lose the ability to smell it. Wait a minute or two, and its smell will blare again. Then it will fade again, and so on. (…) No scent is more flirtatious. Appearing, disappearing, appearing, disappearing, it plays hide-and-seek with our senses, and there’s no way to get too much of it.

— Diane Ackerman, ‘Smell: Of Violets and Neurons’ A Natural History of the Senses

[thedreamingviolet]

I am a half full jar of honey on a sunlit kitchen shelf

[thedreamingviolet]

Sing O goddess, of Hera's rage, how they vilified her for it, even if she was a woman betrayed. Sing O goddess, of Helen's desire, how everyone forgot she was the daughter of the most powerful God and that was what made the whole world burn. Sing O goddess, of Hestia's fires, how she left the cruelty of Olympus for a peaceful life - how she gave Prometheus the idea to steal the sacred flames for the mortal world. Sing O goddess, but not of Odysseus or Menelaus, Achilles or Agamemnon. Sing instead of women full of fire. Sing us the torch song which brings wildfire when Goddesses like you are ignored.

Nikita Gill, Great Goddesses 2

[thedreamingviolet]

Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible. 

Carl Jung, “Memories, Dreams, Reflections”

I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones. 

Franz Kafka, “Letters to Milena”

[thedreamingviolet]

― James Baldwin, Just Above My Head

[thedreamingviolet]

She's a ten but she wants to turn into a nymph and live in an enchanted, ethereal meadow with a magical lake.

[thedreamingviolet]

William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury/from Letters of Summer Past (Listy TamtegoLata) VI