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Margaret Atwood, from The Selected Poems of Margaret Atwood; "You Fit Into Me,"

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i think loving someone can be described as the desire to make things easier for the other person

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Mary Shelley, from "Mathilda," originally published posthumously in 1959

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— Olivia Gatwood, from “The Lover As A Cult.”

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Oh, Kafka, we’re really in it now …

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"April 27. Incapable of living with people, of speaking. Complete immersion in myself, thinking of myself. Apathetic, witless, fearful. I have nothing to say to anyone - never."

— Franz Kafka, Diaries, 1910-1923

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— Franz Kafka, from Letters to Milena (via lumamonchtuna)

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I love you. Infinitely and inexpressively. I've woken up in the middle of the night and here I am writing this. My love, my happiness.

— Vladimir Nabokov, from "Letters to Vera".

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The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me. --Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"

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Sylvia Plath, from a journal entry featured in "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath,"

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- I Guess the Old You is a Ghost (#589: June 25, 2014)

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"And then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?"

-Vincent van Gogh

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“This is the year you begin. Slip into the sweet mud. Get dirty. Stay dirty. There is nothing to forgive”

— Jeremy Radin, ‘Pipe Organ Owl Mansion’

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adaptation of frankenstein, mary shelley (1818) | wuthering heights, emily brontë (1847) | dracula, bram stoker (1897)

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Zoë Lianne, "Erasure"

Mary Oliver, "Felicity"

Emily Bronte, "Wuthering Heights"

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"Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!"

-Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

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“I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.”

― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights