bookville

[bookville]

The thing is, Emmy, you are a product of the nineteenth century: you believe that sadness implies goodness and suffering implies purity. And you think that when you find someone who is sick in the head, they must be good because they’ve suffered.

Linda Rosenkrantz, Talk

[bookville]

Hi daniel, may i ask were did i buy this book? Im looking for this book all the time.. i hope you can help me. Thanks..

Which book do you mean?

[bookville]

But don’t try to understand me, just keep me company.

Clarice Lispector, The Passion According to G.H., translated by Idra Novey (via gorgeousnothings)

[bookville]

i don't post much on here anymore, but if any of you are interested, you can follow my personal blog here at gorgeousnothings 

[bookville]

She had the swagger of a girl. She blushed like a boy. She had a girl’s toughness. She has a boy’s gentleness. She was as meaty as a girl. She was as graceful as a boy. She was as brave and handsome and rough as a girl. She was as pretty and delicate and dainty as a boy. She turned boys’ heads like a girl. She turned girls’ heads like a boy. She made love like a boy. She made love like a girl. She was so boyish it was girlish, so girlish it was boyish, she made me want to rove the world writing our names on every tree. I had simply never found someone so right. Sometimes this shocked me so much that I was unable to speak.

Girl Meets Boy: The Myth of Iphis, Ali Smith (via poesizing)

[bookville]

I do not mean to pray.    The posture for thanks or    supplication is the same    as for weariness or relief.    But I am glad for the luck    of light.

-May Swenson, excerpt from “October,” Nature: Poems Old and New +

[bookville]

And you are an atheist too? said Geryon. I am a skeptic. You doubt God? Well more to the point I credit God with the good sense to doubt me.

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red (via camilla-macauley)

[bookville]

oh it puts the heart in my chest on wings for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking is left in me no : tongue breaks and thin fire is racing under skin and in eyes no sight and drumming fills ears.

Sappho, If Not, Winter (tr. by Anne Carson)

[bookville]

René Magritte, Sixteenth of September, 1956

"We accept reality easily, perhaps because we intuit that nothing is real." 

-- Jorge Luis Borges, "The Immortal," translated by James E. Irby

[bookville]

.. she believed a great happiness awaited her somewhere, and for this reason she remained calm as the days flew by.

Sunflower, Gyula Krúdy (via winterlief)

[bookville]

- I love a dream of love I once had, I love you, and I love this patch of earth. - And which do you love best? -The dream.

Knut Hamsun, from Pan  (via violentwavesofemotion)

[bookville]

You are, you know, you were the nearest thing to a real story to happen in my life.

From Renata Adler’s Pitch Dark, a refrain. (via othersashas)

[bookville]

WHAT IS THE MEANING BEHIND THE ARTWORK OF EDWARD HOPPER , BOY AND MOON ? IS THERE ANY DESCRIPTION ABOUT IT ? PLS ANSWER IT FAST I REALLY NEED THE ANSWER RIGHT NOW

I’m not sure that this illustration has any real “meaning” to it, and I’m no Edward Hopper expert, so I’m not sure I can tell you exactly how this piece fits into his oeuvre contextually. This sounds like a homework question honestly, and I’m not sure there is a right answer. Go take a look at Edward Hopper’s more famous pictures, ask yourself what it is he makes you feel in each one, what each has in common with each other, what it is you think he is trying to do as an artist. To me, this piece is just one of the many pieces of his that perfectly represents his work, though how it does that you will need to answer for yourself. It’s probably worth noting that this is one of his illustrations and not his paintings, and yet it is still very “Edward Hopper.” What that means you should define for yourself.  

Also you could probably use google or something. 

[bookville]

Imagine life without death. Every day you’d want to kill yourself from despair.

Jules Renard (via human-voices)

[bookville]

Dr. Maya Angelou’s last tweet. Mayor Allen Joines and her literary agent have confirmed that the renowned poet-author-activist has passed at at 86.

[bookville]

Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. Sad too. Touch, touch me.

James Joyce, from Ulysses  (via headfullofgold)

[bookville]

"Even before you touched me, I belonged to you; all you had to do was look at me."

One of the most true poems I have ever read. The Burning Heart.  (via madisondelaneyx)