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“I’d say that I’ve been reclusive the last 34 years. That was my big thing as a kid, staying home from school. I’ve trained myself to be psychosomatically sick a lot. To this day, if I go to Largo— which is a very comfortable place for me— I tell my brother, “I have show stomach,” which feels like the flu. Anytime I go out, it is just something to deal with, even walking to the grocery store. If I’m supposed to go from one place to another place that isn’t that comfortable, I usually don’t go.”
— Fiona Apple (via fiona-apple-mcafee-maggart)
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“رنگ پیراہن کا خشبو زلف لہرانے کا نام موسم گل ہے تمہارے بام پر آنے کا نام۔ Hues are defined by your clothes, fragrance by your flowing hair, The season of flowers is identified by your presence on the terrace.”
—
Faiz Ahmed Faiz
rang pairahan ka, khushboo zulf lehraane ka naam, mausam-e-gul hai tumhare baam par aane ka naam
(via khayaal-ke-phool)
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“I decided to allow life to run its course and told myself to stop hoping and fantasizing, to stop dreaming about change, mercy, and love – all those things that human beings cling to and refuse to let go. Now I was going to devote myself to concluding things, to folding up and sealing the past.”
— Elisabeth Rynell, from To Mervas (Archipelago Books, 2008)
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“You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she’s not deadly. She’s beautiful and she’s laughing.”
— Hélène Cixous, from “The Laugh of the Medusa” (via funeral)
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Revisiting Hafiz.
He pried my heart open once before. Encore une fois!
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“I am tired of being human. And angry at feeling so much love. Some days I am angry just to be alive.”
— Clarice Lispector, from “Excess and Privation,” Selected Cronicas (via 4a0000)
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“- I do not trust - I do not care - Out, out into what? - A black fucking hole of half-love. - Move on. - I hate the consoled and the consoler. - I am much fucking angrier than you think. - I cannot trust you and I cannot respect you. - I am no longer honest. - You took that from me and I cannot love you. - Back to life.”
— Sarah Kane, from Cleansed (via lonecowgirl1)
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“I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it’s drenched in sunlight and it’s weightless and I know it’s not cheap. Probably not even real.”
— Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves (via theliteraryjournals)
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إِنَّهُ كَانَ بِي حَفِيًّا
My Lord has always been kind to Me.
— Surat Maryam 19:47
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“That time I thought I could not go any closer to grief without dying I went closer and I did not die.”
— Mary Oliver, from Heavy in “Thirst: Poems by Mary Oliver”
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hotel encanto / miguel angel aragonés
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Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?
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How to Save Your Own Life, Erica Jong
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