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I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.

Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre (via the-other-voice)

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Constellation: The Morning Star via Joan Miro

Size: 46x38 cm Medium: gouache, paper

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A breath of music or of a dream, of something that would make me almost feel, something that would make me not think.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (Penguin Books 2003), page 30

#quotes #text #literature

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This flower wishes to fade via Paul Klee

Medium: watercolor, paper

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Yayoi Kusama

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You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.

Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice (via thelovejournals)

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Gloria Friedmann.

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清 伊秉綬 山水 冊頁八開|Landscapes by Yi Bingshou via Asian Art

Medium: Album of eight leaves; ink on paper

Gift of Robert Hatfield Ellsworth, in memory of La Ferne Hatfield Ellsworth, 1986 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY

http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/41494

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Ugh -- why has the writing gone stale? It seems Im down to lists and plans, ways of helping me live that just don’t do what writing does. Good writing, at least. Like I wanna get at the meat of it, cut through the bone to let in light and see all that raw tissue.

I wanna write like flirting. Just hints of what I really mean, moments to ponder alone later.

I wanna kick and jab, cut to the chase and kiss, really let our lips do the talking -- y’know?

I want to feel all this fuckin’ hurt. That hacking place where my heart broke and the cigarettes burn.

Fuck I wanna gulp every single moment like water after a day of listless depression.

And talk to me goddamnit. I am nauseous with trash chat. Show me the rich, yellow matter of your marrow. The blood keeping you alive. The way your breathing changes when you feel safe with someone.

#personal

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Yves Klein, le rose du-bleu, 1960

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Masao Yamamoto

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and i guess thats the thing is that this, what its like to be me, its kind of like this for everyone. we are all part of a general life. i feel this as i walk to woodstock blvd to buy cigarettes. headphones in, and when a song stirs something in me i stop and stare down the line of the street, out to the horizon. everywhere people are out, too. walking around. stopped in conversation. seated in the coffee shop. i go in to get coffee, and eden is there. im scared of her since she was involved in that confrontation. i arrange all my movements carefully so my back faces her, cream my coffee, and slip outside. its a personal moment. shake it off. back outside, and in the open everyone’s there. everything specific about myself, my desires, all the little moments of my life and the stories ive built up around them, that piece of world carved out called me. all that slips away. vast multitudes of lives all play, intersecting and diffracting, spinning out into little galaxies and consumed, in the end, by their own mass. the same awe and reverence of that cosmic scale suddenly suffuses mundane life. the streets and storefronts, flash of passing cars, birds riding their swaying trees, people and dogs congregating on the walks all suspended in a great, neutral on-going. turning toward home — a flash of recognition! — a name upon my lips remains unspoken.

#personal

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Tomatoes via Olga Rozanova

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And still I am unsatisfied. I must have more -- I am unhappy when I am not growing, when I am not feeling. I live in excess. I want more, more, more.

If I am dissatisfied with myself, it is because I want more. I want to know myself in greater and fuller sweeps. Want to stretch the limbs of being out to be the earth and sky.

If I am unsatisfied with my relationships, its because I want more. Deeper time, to see another in all that they are and have hidden away. To live them fully we we are together, without losing myself, without exhausting them.

And if I am unsatisfied in my days -- it is because I desire always more. More time spent in rest and in play. Whole moments, when everything hangs together.

#personal

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Patience with all that is unsettled in your heart       and unaccomplished at the end of the day.

Patience with what was missed the first time,                    and for all the needless suffering.

Patience with yourself and others, above all,           and for the quick and many struggles              and for the slow growth of the soul.

#personal