Make Much Of Me Why Don't You.
Make much of me why don't you.
Matthea Harvery, Not So Much Miniature As Far Away
More Posts from Moonmovement and Others
17th century astronomical art of Maria Clara Eimmart; celestial splendor from a forgotten woman who broke the bounds of her time.
(brainpickings.org)
I take the soil in
my clean fingers and to say
I weep is untrue, weep is too
musical a word. I heave
into the soil. You cannot die.
I just came to this life
again, alive in my silent way.
- Ada Limón, Invasive
I am a song about the great pain of joy.
Dagna Ślepowrońska, tr. Regina Grol
Winter is king, raindrops sing, gardens drip with loss.
Nancy Milford, Savage Beauty
I am only as much as I'm not.
Dagna Ślepowrońska, tr. Regina Grol
For his conversations about action (we have had more than one) are all descriptions of God
Anne Carson, Kinds of Water
her eyes are pure stars, and her fingers, if they touch you, freeze you to the bone.
- Virginia Woolf, Orlando
I am the hurting kind. I keep searching for proof.
Ada Limón, The Hurting Kind
Thought and life are as the poles asunder.
- Virginia Woolf, Orlando
There is no question I am someone starving. There is no question I am making this journey to find out what that appetite is. And I see him free of it, as if he had simply crossed to the other side of the bridge, I see desire set free in him like some ray of mysterious light. Now tell me the truth, would you cross that bridge if you came to it? And where, if you made the grave choice to give up bread, would it take you?
Anne Carson, Kinds of Water
