— Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks
[text ID: My library is an archive of longings.]
we're not kids anymore.
todays bird

Product Placement

gracie abrams
EXPECTATIONS
macklin celebrini has autism
Monterey Bay Aquarium

roma★
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

Discoholic 🪩
Keni

Kiana Khansmith

if i look back, i am lost
taylor price
RMH
art blog(derogatory)
untitled
$LAYYYTER
Mike Driver
Claire Keane
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Belgium

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from Italy

seen from Malaysia
seen from Latvia
seen from Ecuador
seen from Thailand
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Germany

seen from United Kingdom

seen from France

seen from United States
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from United States
@veronicagood6
— Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks
[text ID: My library is an archive of longings.]

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Jane Austen - "Sense and Sensibility"
Nothing is funnier to me than Mr Darcy telling his best friend not to propose to the girl he loves bc 1. Her family are unsuitable and 2. She doesn't truly like him enough to marry... only to then himself propose to a woman who is 1. From the exact same family and 2. Has done nothing but roast him since they met
Charlotte Brontë, from “Jane Eyre”
Jane Austen, from “Pride and Prejudice”

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The darkness I am in is so full it’s leaking. I have to catch it in a disposable pad I slip inside my bra. I erased the rage from this poem, but there is still rage in it. And so I failed again.
— Niina Pollari, from “At a Reading Listening to a Poem About Motherhood,” Path of Totality (via lifeinpoetry)
Mourning after nineteen years feels / Like being buried alive
— Janice Lobo Sapiago, from “Being Reading,” like a solid to a shadow (via lifeinpoetry)
Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry featured in “A Writer’s Diary”
“I used to cry in a genre no one read.”
— — Ocean Vuong, from “Nothing,” Time Is a Mother
“I bought a pale blue dress from Humana / and walked alone, home, in it, / through the parades of my emptiness.”
— — Cynthia Cruz, from “Saturday,” Hotel Oblivion

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The Victoria Daily Times, British Columbia, July 14, 1936
i’ll slowly get caught up for napowrimo, hopefully. 1/30. text id under cut.
Keep reading
i'm so in love with my girlfriend i could swallow a star
— Emilie Buchwald, an excerpt from My Mother’s Music
if i was in a jane austen novel i would be the one sent to the seaside for my health

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Natalie Diaz, from The Hand Has Twenty-Seven Bones — : These Hands If Not Gods
[Text ID: “What are the hands, but gods pulsing with red sugar?”]
The Heliotrope
.
I am sitting
on the front porch
in the idle
breeze that blows
through the
blossom and rust
of things,
waiting for the sun
to find me
and my head to turn;
for even though
I do not worship gods,
I still want to believe
they are here.