May 2013
I did not last longer than the froth On the lips of the waves on the sand Born under no star on a moonless night My name was only a perishable sob.
- Yvan Goll
“Only poetry isn’t shit.”
– Roberto Bolaño (via insipidexpectations)
“But how could you live and have no story to tell?”
– Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights (via feuille-d-automne)
“To be silent; to be alone. All the being and doing, expansive, glittering,...”
– Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (via feuille-d-automne)
“I love the dark hours of my being
in which my senses drop into the deep.
I...”
– Rainer Maria Rilke, from A Book for the Hours in Prayer, trans. Robert Bly (via feuille-d-automne)
