Even a map cannot show you
the way back to a place
that no longer exists.
Sandra M. Castillo, from “Christmas, 1970” (via risky wiver)
(Source: proustitute, via libraryland)
Some may have blamed us that we cease to speak
Of things we spoke of in our verses early,
Saying: a lovely voice is such as such;
Saying: that lady’s eyes were sad last week,
Wherein the world’s whole joy is born and dies;
Saying: she hath this way or that, this much
Of grace, this way or that, this much
Of grace, this little misericorde;
Ask us no further word;
If we were proud, then proud to be so wise
Ask us no more of all the things ye heard;
We may not speak of them, they touch us nearly.
‘The Fault of It’ - Ezra Pound
2 weeks ago - 
1
1
‘I’m Not Yours’ - Angus and Julia Stone
There it went…the inevitable pang of “that’s mine”. The jealous twinge. The one I knew I would one day feel. The possessive desire….
1 month ago - 2
2 
‘Dear little Dot, life is so damned hard.’
She was crying upon his shoulder.
‘So damned hard, so damned hard,’ he repeated aimlessly; ‘it just hurts people and hurts people, until finally it hurts them so that they can’t be hurt ever any more. That’s the last and worst thing it does.’
‘The Beautiful and Damned’ - F. Scott Fitzgerald
