Someone Was And Was Here And Then Suddenly Disappeared And Is Stubbornly Gone.

october, mary oliver

but indirectly children know everything there is to know. They just don't know why.

Nancy Milford, Savage Beauty

in that largeness of heart, that capacity for feeling and desire and passion, there's some kind of holiness.

Niall Williams, History of the Rain

Instead of making cathedrals out of Christ, man, or 'life,' we are making it out of ourselves

Barnett Newman, The Sublime is Now 

Still he looked; still he paused. It is these pauses that are our undoing.

- Virginia Woolf, Orlando

The rain hovering over the city for days  finally fell. You were arriving after years...

Garous Abdolmalekian, Meeting tr. Ahmed Nadalizadeh and Idra Novey

“I am the ocean; the earth; whatever dies for you.”

— Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; “The Black Trailor (A Noir Fiction),” (via loveage-moondream)

For, when what he knows as art is relegated to the museum and gallery, the unconquerable impulse towards experiences enjoyable in themselves finds such outlet as the daily environment provides.

- John Dewey, Art as Experience

if the grief is unbearable is there another way to live with it that is not the same as bearing it?

- Judith Butler

He's got all that mind, all that inner country he keeps going around in, mines and craters, caverns and dead ends.

Niall Williams, History of the Rain