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“I kept being alive when I should have been burning: I was Joan, I was Lazarus.”

— Louise Glück, excerpt of “Saint-Joan”, in The Seven Ages

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Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights

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– Faraj Bou al-Isha (b. 1956), “Wait” translated from the Arabic by Khaled Mattawa in: “Poems for the Millennium. Book of North African Literature”, edited by Pierre Joris and Habib Tengour

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“Can this be paradise, with so much loss in it? Paradise is defined by loss. Is loss. Is.”

— Margaret Atwood, from Galiano Coast: Four Entrances

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Odysseus Elytis, tr. by Athan Anagnostopoulos, from “Maria Nephele: A Poem In Two,”

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“In the whole entire world, you are the only person, the only person I love or have ever loved. And I love you terribly. Terribly. That’s what’s so awfully, irreducibly real. I can make up anything but I can’t dream that away.”

— Tony Kushner, Angels in America (via larmoyante)

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Sylvia Plath, from Soliloquy of the Solipsist

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when kafka said "all the love in the world is useless when there is total lack of understanding" and when richard siken said “if you love me, you don’t love me in a way I understand.”

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“Those trembling stars … they made my heart tremble, my veins glow when I viewed them.”

— Charlotte Brontë, from ‘Jane Eyre’

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“What I hear in the dark / is my own blood stalking me”

— Emily Skaja, from “It’s Impossible to Keep White Moths,” Brute (via bluebeardsbride)

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“You’re everywhere. Except right here. And it hurts.” - Rupi Kaur, The Sun and Her Flowers

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ocean vuong, ‘to my father / to my future son’

[ID: “Turn back & find the book I left for us, filled with all the colors of the sky forgotten by gravediggers. Use it. Use it to prove how the stars were always what we knew they were: the exit wounds of every misfired word.” end ID]

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“It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. And yet I cannot let it go. I cannot let it go.”

— Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Ruth Tiffanny Beuscher written c. July 1962