Everything, In Fact, Was Something Else.
Everything, in fact, was something else.
- Virginia Woolf, Orlando
More Posts from Moonmovement and Others
green leaves / torn straight from the cross
- Agata Tuszyńska, Faith tr. Regina Grol
Still he looked; still he paused. It is these pauses that are our undoing.
- Virginia Woolf, Orlando
While I haven’t updated this blog in a bit (I finished my MSc degree which left little room for enjoyment reading), I have begun to pleasure read again (I cannot describe how much I’ve missed Austen) and will be updating shortly.
I also am fully planning on diving headfirst into religious studies as a hobby in 2024, so forthcoming content will reflect this in due time.
I want to say the poet is never afraid because he is unceasingly afraid, and therefore cannot become that which he already is
Mary Ruefle, On Fear
The first rule of war is sympathy with the enemy.
Simon Critchley, Tragedy, the Greeks, and Us
Violence was all. The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lover loved and went.
- Virginia Woolf, Orlando
I’ve felt a peculiar attachment to the t’s of the past: weep, wept, sleep, slept, leave, left. There’s a finality there,
- Heather Christle, The Crying Book
The light is nervous and quiet -
Urszula M. Benka, To the Last Man on Earth, In the Hour of His Death tr. Regina Grol
