“The lovers
will drink wine night and day.
They will drink until they can
tear away the veils of intellect and
melt away the layers of shame and modesty.
When in Love,
body, mind, heart and soul don’t even exist.
Become this,
fall in Love, and you will not be separated again.”
— Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi, “The Lovers”
(Source: berfrois.com)
“April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.”
Amazing Grace
(click, and click if you don’t get the joke)
(via, totes NSFW)
“It is strange that, with all Jerome’s deep feeling about the fall of the ancient world, he thinks the preservation of virginity more important than victory over the Huns and Vandals and Goths. Never once do his thoughts turn to any possible measure of practical statesmanship; never once does he point out the evils of the fiscal system, or of reliance on an army composed of barbarians.” — Russell, Bertrand (2007-03-30). History of Western Philosophy (Routledge Classics) (p. 322). POCKET BOOKS. Kindle Edition.
“
They just played Handel and Matheson back-to-back. Funny, as Matheson nearly killed Handel in a duel.
Only thing that saved Handel was a large button on his coat, which caught the sword.
They were fighting about who would play the harpsichord in Matheson’s opera. Went directly outside of the theater to duel.
” — @munilass (1,2,3)
*gulp*
michael pope twins shoot
Louise Glück
Don’t listen to me; my heart’s been broken.
I don’t see anything objectively.
I know myself; I’ve learned to hear like a psychiatrist.
When I speak passionately,
that’s when I’m least to be trusted.
It’s very sad, really: all my life, I’ve been praised
for my intelligence, my powers of language, of insight.
In the end, they’re wasted—
I never see myself,
standing on the front steps, holding my sister’s hand.
That’s why I can’t account
for the bruises on her arm, where the sleeve ends.
In my own mind, I’m invisible: that’s why I’m dangerous.
People like me, who seem selfless,
we’re the cripples, the liars;
we’re the ones who should be factored out
in the interest of truth.
When I’m quiet, that’s when the truth emerges.
A clear sky, the clouds like white fibers.
Underneath, a little gray house, the azaleas
red and bright pink.
If you want the truth, you have to close yourself
to the older daughter, block her out:
when a living thing is hurt like that,
in its deepest workings,
all function is altered.
That’s why I’m not to be trusted.
Because a wound to the heart
is also a wound to the mind.
(Source: readalittlepoetry.wordpress.com)
Vera Pavlova
9
I broke your heart.
Now barefoot I tread
on shards.
17
Why is the word yes so brief?
It should be
the longest,
the hardest,
so that you could not decide in an instant to say it,
so that upon reflection you could stop
in the middle of saying it.
(Source: readalittlepoetry.wordpress.com)