Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
Mary Oliver, from Evidence (via violentwavesofemotion)
"Look!" and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.
2 weeks ago // 510 notes
me: horoscopes are fucking stupid if you believe that shit you’re a fucking—
horoscope: leos are sexy as hell
me: genius bruh these shits are real as fuck amazing how are they so on point all the time
2 weeks ago // 107,453 notes
What is one thing that you desire to say as a poet, but haven’t said yet? What does the future hold for you, if you could hold it?
I don't really know. I often find myself writing to the terrified versions of myself. And maybe all I really want to say—if anything at all—is that you (whoever you are) are not alone. Maybe because this is what some of the most important writers in my life have been telling me over and over again in their myriad and unique ways. I go back to the boy I once was, the boy who hid in the library during recces to read a book covered in his lap so no one will know he has betrayed “fun” for secrets. So no one will know he loves words. Because lovers of words were thought to be weak and effeminate. And effeminate boys were strange and strange things don't last very long in this world. So I read to find my own hand in the pages of books. In the future, I want to keep holding books. To touch myself on each page, saying “I am here. I am here. I am here.”
2 weeks ago // 1,163 notes
Every city has a sex and an age which have nothing to do with demography. Rome is feminine. So is Odessa. London is a teenager, an urchin, and, in this, hasn’t change since the time of Dickens. Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman.
John Berger (via notebookings)
(Source: bookaddictiion, via notebookings)
3 weeks ago // 31,591 notes