Saturday, May 26, 2012

Barking

The crack of night 
the seep of light into the darkest places
the fires that burned with the faces I spoke
to in delight. my pants wet my bed dirtied
my eyes tired i’ll work soon 
my forgetfulness and restlessness
and eagerness before June
i hold it together my straps of leather
my sweater my lips in tact
my nose nowhere it shouldn’t go and my
mind quicker than a railroad rat
a nighttime dog calling a sizzle and a skee dat
a train howling the usual waterfall raincloud stall
the dog call the star prowl the train roar
the calm pass the good for  

Monday, May 14, 2012
In each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter… Until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold… Dr. Manhattan, Watchmen (Alan Moore)

(Source: spiritbones)

Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Work on your character, let life fall into place.  Sonia Rumzi (via creatingaquietmind)
Sunday, April 22, 2012

Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Invitation

Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Invitation

Monday, April 9, 2012

(Source: nevver)

Wednesday, March 14, 2012
But whereas a girl of nineteen draws her confidence from a surfeit of attention, a woman of twenty-nine is nourished on subtler stuff. Desirous, she chooses her apéritifs wisely, or, content, she enjoys the caviare of potential power. Happily she does not seem, in either case, to anticipate the subsequent years when her insight will often be blurred by panic, by the fear of stopping or the fear of going on. But on the landings of nineteen or twenty-nine she is pretty sure that there are no bears in the hall. F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night (via thatkindofwoman)
Sunday, March 4, 2012
When I like people immensely, I never tell their names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvelous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it. Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via bookmania)
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
swervereckless:

Legit
The underlying bureaucratic key is the ability to deal with boredom…To breathe, so to speak, without air. The key is the ability, whether innate or conditioned, to find the other side of the rote, the picayune, the meaningless, the repetitive, the pointlessly complex. To be, in a word, unborable…If you are immune to boredom, there is literally nothing you cannot accomplish. David Foster Wallace, The Pale King (via millionsmillions)
floralle:

Sylvia Plath, Mad Girl’s Love Song

floralle:

Sylvia Plath, Mad Girl’s Love Song