DSC_1061 (by These Two Eyes)
Anonymous asked:
how do i get out of my mind? i feel like it's not letting me live
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I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for? …We need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.
Franz Kafka, Letter to Oskar Pollak. 27 January 1904. (via anomalyatlarge)
I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for? …We need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.
Kafka, Franz. Letter to Oskar Pollak. 27 January 1904.
I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.
Charles Bukowski (via petrichour)
endure, endure, and the syllables harden like stoic white sheets struck with rigor mortis on the clothesline of winter.
Sylvia Plath, excerpt from a letter to Richard Sassoon, in Paris, November 22, 1955, in The Journals of Sylvia Plath (Anchor Books, 1998)
I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
Charles Bukowski
I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
Charles Bukowski
I drank coffee and read old books and waited for the year to end.
Richard Brautigan, Trout Fishing In America (via splitterherzen)
wethinkwedream answered:
get into other people’s minds, get into the world, get into books, movies, art, new places. get into stimulating things that will open you up. love. happiness. light.
There are some books that reached through the noise of life to grab you by the collar and speak only of the truest things.
Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot
Ask her what she craved, and she’d get a little frantic about things like books, the woods, music. Plants and the seasons. Also freedom.
Charles Frazier, Nightwoods (via thatkindofwoman)
violentwavesofemotion