ashamed a cathedral
of mouths this is how heretics
become holy by setting our own sighs
on fire
Mary Jean Chan, Flèche - At the Castro
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Susan Sontag, from “Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963″
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Kiyoshi Awazu, Poster for The Wife of Seishû Hanaoka
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— Mary Oliver, The Pond
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Aphrodite tells me that love is like wine. If your cup is already full and you try to add more, it ill just spill onto the carpet. Some people try and try and just stain everything. Their fingers are purple with want
Trista Mateer, Aphrodite Made Me Do It
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Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Gentle Spirit
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'Autumn Symphony'. Klemens Brosch. 1894-1926.
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—Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
[That’s what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.]
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There is a vast melancholy in the canticles of the wolves, melancholy infinite as the forest, endless as these long nights of winter and yet that ghastly sadness, that mourning for their own, irremediable appetites, can never move the heart for not one phrase in it hints at the possibility of redemption
Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories
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Alain de Botton
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https://www.deviantart.com/yoann-lossel/art/Les-Jardins-de-Nuit-856763585
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Kate Chopin, from The Awakening
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but you know
how women tame their bodies
into bones, dig their own graves
in daylight.
Mary Jean Chan, Flèche - Dragon Hill Spa
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Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak; “Concerns from a hot-boxed jeep”
[Text ID: “How do I stop / carrying everything / that had ever / happened to me?”]
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“Trust Issues” by takiisbranding aka Bruno Cæsar.
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For myself I am too heavy, and for you too light.
Franz Kafka (via surqrised)
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Dead trees, sharpening the sky. Once upon a time, the people
whose nightmares I inherited were safe; then, they weren’t. Hence, they were
never safe
Franny Choi, The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On - Upon Learning That Some Korean War Refugees Used Partially Detonated Napalm Canisters as Cooking Fuel
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