May 2012
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i closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways.
– rumi (posted by nirvikalpa, via allinvainortheopposite)
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it is not worth the bother of killing yourself, since you always kill yourself...
– e. m. cioran, the trouble with being born, trans. richard howard (posted by/ thanks to proustitute)
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all worthy work is open to interpretations the author did not intend. art isn’t...
– joss whedon on reddit (posted by doctorbee)
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cautiously, i allowed
myself to feel good
at times.
i found moments of
peace...
– charles bukowski, let it enfold you (posted by larmoyante)
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i have nothing now but praise for my life. i’m not unhappy. i cry a lot because...
– maurice sendak on fresh air in 2011 (posted by nprfreshair)
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you are a dream; i hope i never meet you.
– sylvia plath, the unabridged journals (posted by/ thanks to proustitute)
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during the sleepless hours of the night a thought came to me that seemed...
– anna kamienska, a nest of quiet: a notebook, translated by clare cavanagh (posted by/ thanks to awritersruminations)
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you won’t allow me to go to school.
i won’t become a doctor.
remember this:...
– poem written by an 11 year old afghan girl, the New York Times magazine: why afghan women risk death to write poetry (posted by katyuno)
April 2012
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this was another of our fears: that life wouldn’t turn out to be like...
– julian barnes, the sense of an ending (posted by/ thanks to awritersruminations)
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they’ve promised that dreams come true - but forgot to mention that nightmares...
– oscar wilde (posted by weepling)
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i often cry when i write…afterward too. it’s not easy to admit, confront,...
– alana noel voth (posted by poorlywrittenhistory)
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it was a bright cold day in april, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
– george orwell, nineteen-eighty-four (posted by thenocturnals)