moonstone

Anaïs Nin, from “The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1955–1966”

T. S. Eliot — The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Sylvia Plath, from “The Jailer.”

Details. L'Aurore, 1881, by William-Adolphe Bouguereau. Two studies of hawthorn blossom, Capri, by Sophie Anderson (1823-1903).

Our Friday night book club became a refuge to us. A private freedom to feel the world growing darker all around you, but you only need a candle to see new worlds unfold. That is what we found in our society.

Margaret Atwood, from “Your Children Cut Their Hands…”, The Door (2007)

“Mommy and Daddy love you very much, kids,” Joshua says quietly so only I can hear him. To the casual onlooker he is politely chatting. A few meerkat heads have popped up over cubicle walls. It seems we’re the stuff of legend. “Sometimes we get excited and argue. But don’t be scared. Even when we’re arguing, it’s not your fault.” “It’s just grown-up stuff,” I softly explain to the apprehensive faces we pass. “Sometimes Daddy sleeps on the couch, but it’s okay. We still love you.”

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1944-1947

i don’t know if it’s because i’m too weak to do it, or if i’m strong enough not to.

— Vicent Van Gogh

Maggie Nelson, from Bluets  (via bellsofatlantis)

Sylvia Plath, from, “Three Women.”

Marilyn Monroe, 1954.