"The nights disappear like bruises
but nothing is healed."

W.S. Merwin, from “The Asians Dying," The Collected Poems of W.S. Merwin (Library of America, 2013)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via ontheedgeofdarkness)

"How fragile we are, between the few good moments."

Jane Hirschfield

"We can’t selectively numb emotion. Numb the dark and you numb the light."

Brené Brown, Daring Greatly 

(Source: pureblyss, via fuckyeahexistentialism)

When I see shit going down in the psych ward, there’s a little song I sing called “That’s Not My Job” and I get the fuck outta the way.

"

Twenty years ago there was only air where I am. Fifty years from now, air again.

[…]

I said to myself: “So this is the world.”

"

Arkaye Kierulf, Autobiography (via heteroglossia)

(via invisiblestories)

"Art gives us the knowledge that many have gone before, and had the same strange feelings and the same unanswerable questions, and that we are not alone in the art-endeavor, let alone life. It gives us the knowledge that people have always been stupid and violent and cruel, and compassionate and confused and curious and wondrous and astonished and tired. What it does not give us is answers. It gives us instead a picture. It does not ask that we analyze the picture, but that we stand before it and look, in the hope that looking might turn into gazing. For gazing will hold our attention for a very long time."

Mary Ruefle

with thanks to whiskey river

"Normally I didn’t see a great deal. I didn’t hear a great deal either. I didn’t pay attention. Strictly speaking I wasn’t there. Strictly speaking I believe I’ve never been anywhere."

Samuel Beckett, The End  (via whyallcaps)

(via emotionalelixir)

"Every word, every thought, and every emotion comes back to one core problem: life is meaningless. The experiment in nihilism is to seek out and expose every illusion and every myth, wherever it may lead, no matter what, even if it kills us."

Mitchell Heisman (via blackestdespondency)

(Source: blackestdesponency, via blackestdespondency)

"What have I done, dear God, to deserve this perpetual feeling that I’m almost ready to begin something really new?"

Theodore Roethke, from “First Class,” On Poetry & Craft (Copper Canyon Press, 2001)

(Source: apoetreflects)

"I am nothing but words,
       just a shape
              of dreams or night."

Euripides, Herakles, translated by Anne Carson in Grief Lessons (via mitochondria)

(Source: proustitute, via mitochondria)