Edna St. Vincent Millay, in a letter to her mother Cora, from Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay (written by Nancy Milford)


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@saving-words
Edna St. Vincent Millay, in a letter to her mother Cora, from Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay (written by Nancy Milford)

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On all my limbs were spells of love.
VIDYΔPATI (ΰ€΅ΰ€Ώΰ€¦ΰ₯ΰ€―ΰ€Ύΰ€ͺΰ€€ΰ€Ώ) βΒ Love Songs of VidyapatiΒ [Ed.Β W. G. Archer], transl. byΒ Deben Bhattacharya, (1970)
Charles Baudelaire, βHead Of Hairβ
βThe most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.β
β Ernest Hemingway
I feel haunted by a terrifying melancholy which I struggle wildly to killβand I canβt. I feel waylaid by madness
AnaΓ―s Nin, Nearer the Moon: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of AnaΓ―s Nin, 1937-1939

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In her eyes shone the sweetness of melancholy.
Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out
Vladimir Nabokov, in a letter to Vera Slonim, written c. January 1924 featured in Letters to VΓ©ra
βHoliness gleams on my dirty fingers,β
β Margaret Atwood, from Half-Hanged Mary in βMorning In The Burned Houseβ (via adrasteiax)
βDealing with other people reminds me of why I like to be alone.β
β Raine Cooper
ββ¦.Who wouldnβt want you? Whose most demonic appetite could you possibly fail to answer?β
β Louise Gluck, from βPersephoneβs Songβ

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"The Brothers Karamazov", Fyodor Dostoevsky (translated by Constance Garnett)
She never said much, she was a melancholy creature,
Angela Carter, Nights at the Circus
from Mary Shelleyβs journal, February 25, 1822
Anne Michaels, from "Correspondences: Poems and Portraits," originally published in 2013
π½πππππππ π·πΏ, π·πΏπ·πΉ πππ π³ππππππ πΎπ π΅ππππ£ πΊππππ, π·πΏπ·πΆ-π·πΏπ·πΉ

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
βThe most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.β
β Ernest Hemingway
Why do I choose people who donβt choose me?
k.b. // olga myko - use me