February 2009
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To a Blackbird and His Mate Who Died in the Spring
An iron hand has stilled the throats That throbbed with loud and rhythmic glee And dammed the flood of silver notes That drenched the world in melody. The blosmy apple boughs are yearning For their wild choristers’ returning, But no swift wings flash through the tree.
Ye that were glad and fleet and strong, Shall Silence take you in her net? And shall Death quell that radiant song Whose echo...
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Don’t you get it? Everyone feels like a fake. Everyone feels like they’ve gotten...
– (via littlemiss, kari-shma, reinventthesea)
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The 100 Most Beautiful Words in the English... →
(via havent-got-a-prayer, benjaminandhisblog)
January 2009
144 posts
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Nobody wants to be here and nobody wants to leave.
– The Road by Cormac McCarthy (via reluctantbuddha, kari-shma, finallyseeing, sleepanddream)
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Confessions.
havent-got-a-prayer:
I don’t like to hunt and I’d rather write a poem than play a sport. My idea of a date is dinner, not a bedroom. I can overanalyze things, and I often care too much. I crave direction, and these days I can’t settle for something that won’t go anywhere. When I invest in something or someone, I want it to be worth it. I’d much rather go to a concert than to a football game....
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One time when I was a child, I was feeling very upset and angry at one point.
I...
– Pema Chodron
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Reading gives us somewhere to go when we have to stay where we are.
– (via aliehs)