Angela Carter, Nights at the circus

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Angela Carter, Nights at the circus

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not evil anymore i want to be loved now
evil again
âI watch the edge of his face in the dark. Its beauty is part of what binds me to him. I donât know how to make this sound virtuous.â
â Anne Carson, from âPart V: The Anthropology of Water,â Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

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i literally canât stop thinking abt that richard siken quote where he falls to the floor crying but all he can focus on is the details of the wall in front of him
âEventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: youâre falling to the floor crying thinking, âI am falling to the floor crying,â but thereâs an element of the ridiculous to it â you knew it would happen and, even worse, while youâre on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realise you didnât paint it very well.â
The eyes of the gods were turning toward her once more⌠but what if the gods werenât gods at all?Â
no offense but if you have ever been kind to me i have never forgotten it
â Bill Hughes, Gothic Encounters with Enchantment and the Faerie Realm in Literature and Culture, from âOpen Graves, Open Mindsâ

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The eyes of the gods were turning toward her once more⌠but what if the gods werenât gods at all?Â
ââYouâre not a monster,â I said. But I lied. What I really wanted to say was that a monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.â
â Ocean Vuong, from On Earth Weâre Briefly Gorgeous.
HELEADES IIÂ by Paola Padron

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âThe desire to be loved is the last illusion: give it up and you will be free.â
â Margaret Atwood, from A Sunday Drive (via wishbzne)
@fandomaestheticnetâ family event Âť the B e n n e t sisters âWhat is his name?â âBingley.â âIs he married or single?â âOh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!â âHow so? How can it affect them?â âMy dear Mr. Bennet,â replied his wife, âhow can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.â