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“On the trail of my fear I meet again with my desire, and I bind myself to it, thus leaving stranded the concatenation of discourse with which I have built my hallucination, my weakness and my strength, my investment and my ruin.”
— Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, tr. by Leon S. Roudiez (via decreation)
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“But the old wound has split open, the invisible blood pours forth. Soon I’ll be emptied.”
— Margaret Atwood, from The Blind Assassin
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“My love, we two will die together, close together; our sublime bitterness will slowly dry up; and our defunct lips will have touched in shadow.”
— César Vallejo, from The Poet to His Lover (tr. by Clayton Eshleman)
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