“On such sunny, sad mornings I always feel in my bones that there is a chance yet of my not being excluded from Heaven, and that salvation may be granted to me despite the frozen mud and horror in my heart.”

— Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire

(Source: gwyon, via lapetitemandarine)

He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass that always points me back to him.
- Clementine von Radics, In Defense of Loving Him (via larmoyante)
I am not always thinking sweetly of you. I am thinking angrily or indignantly or sulkily, quite often, but I am never not thinking of you. More often than not I am just worried about you, concerned and distressed about my baby lamb being tired or unhappy–and of course often it is with mad, mad passion and sometimes it is naughty, sometimes, only sometimes is it dirty or even sadistic. You are all over me, in sorrow or in joy, all of the time – Oh yes in drunkenness too, in conversation, in work, with every breath and heart-beat.
- Laurence Olivier, from a letter to Vivien Leigh (via violentwavesofemotion)
I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.
- Sylvia Plath   (via audrotas)

(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via audrotas)


Spring by Michael Faudet


Franz Liszt – “La campanella" from Grandes études de Paganini S. 141 – Yundi Li

(Source: odditoreum)

Personally, I’m a mess of conflicting impulses—I’m independent and greedy and I also want to belong and share and be a part of the whole. I doubt that I’m the only one who feels this way. It’s the core of monster making, actually. Wanna make a monster? Take the parts of yourself that make you uncomfortable—your weaknesses, bad thoughts, vanities, and hungers—and pretend they’re across the room. It’s too ugly to be human. It’s too ugly to be you. Children are afraid of the dark because they have nothing real to work with. Adults are afraid of themselves.

Oh we’re a mess, poor humans, poor flesh—hybrids of angels and animals, dolls with diamonds stuffed inside them. We’ve been to the moon and we’re still fighting over Jerusalem. Let me tell you what I do know: I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multi-vocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper.

I didn’t want to write these pages until there were no hard feelings, no sharp ones. I do not have that luxury. I am sad and angry and I want everyone to be alive again. I want more landmarks, less landmines. I want to be grateful but I’m having a hard time with it.

- Richard Siken (via supersatellite)

Gary Nikolai Angelov


Eve bit into Adam’s Throat,
left a bump there,
and he C r o a k e d.

Stop scratching, she says.
I’m coughing, he says,
trying to stay a f l o a t.

So It Goes


When the world
at your jaw
like a dentist
pulling teeth
when three words
like I love you
I miss you
and you’re just
sitting there
blowing smoke
from a cup
of hot tea


Voyeur by Michael Faudet