thiswindyplace
Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason, you sing
3K posts
quietness and other screams
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thiswindyplace · 5 days ago
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When I care I don't leave And once I leave, I don't care
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thiswindyplace · 6 days ago
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Matthew
I sunk beneath the amorous sadness of night
Arthur Rimbaud
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thiswindyplace · 6 days ago
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Navin Kumar
There's peace at the end of it all. A difficult and bitter peace, sometimes, but peace.
Albert Camus
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thiswindyplace · 6 days ago
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Görtz
I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone
Lord Byron
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thiswindyplace · 7 days ago
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Benjamin Hardman, Burst of light
But the heart sometimes blindly seeks suffering
Albert Camus
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thiswindyplace · 7 days ago
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Aimery J. Joëssel
The truth is, though, that you don't need to die to know what it's like to be a ghost.
Adam Jonhson
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thiswindyplace · 9 days ago
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I hope it rains hope today
@ItsAPerfectLife
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thiswindyplace · 9 days ago
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All they were - all they had ever been - was a pair of sunflowers who each believed the other was the sun
Micah Nemerever
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thiswindyplace · 10 days ago
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The hearts that I called out to, remained stone
Henriette Roland-Host
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thiswindyplace · 10 days ago
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Neither with god nor the devil but with the beauty of darkness…
- Charly og heksen
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thiswindyplace · 11 days ago
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It is getting dark around my soul
Edmond Jabes
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thiswindyplace · 11 days ago
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I never had illusions about the possibility of my being very lonely
Friedrich Nietzsche
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thiswindyplace · 11 days ago
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I, a moonlight ghost
Edith Sitwell
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thiswindyplace · 13 days ago
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June J
You should never return to ruins, whether it be a town, the house where you were born, or someone you have separated from.
Andrei Tarkovsky
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thiswindyplace · 14 days ago
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I have passed through a hell of unending sadness.
Nikos Kazantzakis
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thiswindyplace · 14 days ago
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There's no peace, I'm sorry to say. We find it. We lose it. We find it again. We lose it again.
Kurt Vonnegut
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thiswindyplace · 15 days ago
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Mario Presi
Dark evening. The wind rustles, just as it did then, the same; my soul aches, about the same thing, the moon is behind the trees, like a palace with a silver coffin. Does my heart really still ache now? I don’t understand.
-- Nikolay Punin
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