Marie-Claire Bancquart, from “I Walk in the Solitude of Books,” wr. c. 1963

The Evening Sun, Hanover, Pennsylvania, January 12, 1922

A tiny miracle. A spark of hope. Let yourself be pulled into the orbit of what you desire the most.

“Life is confusing, like one day you’re the happiest person alive and tomorrow you hate everyone and everything for no logical reason”

We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste. - Call Me By Your Name (2017)

emily dickinson [ID: “Oh the Earth was made for lovers,” end ID]

[ID: “Oh, the ecstasy of aloneness!—” end ID]

Euripides, from “Orestes”, An Oresteia (trans. Anne Carson)

— ‘Personal Letter No. 2,’ a poem by Sonia Sanchez (via salemwitchtrials)

lorde - hard feelings

Margaret Atwood, The Penelopiad 

Dans la ville blanche (Alain Tanner, 1983)