The truth is usually just an excuse for lack of imagination.
GARAK, Deep Space Nine (via inothernews)
The River by Mark Leidner
The woman told me the saddest thing I had ever heard. I told her I loved her because of what she had told me. Her expression soured. She warned me not to love her for her telling me that. She told me it was okay, and maybe even good, to love her – only not for that. I responded that I did not love her for that, exactly, and that she had misunderstood me. I admitted that why I loved her was related to what she had told me, yes, but only tangentially, and was that alright? She asked me to elaborate, so I told her that I loved her, not for the thing she had told me, but for the courage involved in telling someone something like it, something that sad, which seemed to me to be a great deal of courage – and I told her I also loved her, though far less than for the courage part, although plenty still, for the way in which she told it to me, which I explained had been, in all seriousness, eloquent and mesmerizing. She had a small build and at that point she laughed like a flower, wilting and blooming. Her nose was in the center. I decided to show her the river. I picked her up in my hands and carried her, crisscrossing back and down through the steep and elaborate cragwork of the slope of the riverbank. When my feet were finally in the water I looked at her and said, the river is deep, and fast, and it drowns many people, but I still love it. I still love the river, I told her. But I do not love it because it is deep, and fast, and drowns many people. I love it because it runs behind my house, and I have lived above it forever.
4 weeks ago on April 24, 2013 at 11:44pm
if you use the facebook “i’m feeling” icons seriously, I don’t know if we can be friends.
4 weeks ago on April 24, 2013 at 10:26pm
What
do sad people have in
common?
It seems
they have all built a shrine
to the past
And often go there
to do a strange wail and
worship.
What is the beginning of
happiness?
It is to stop being
so religious
like that.
bume:
how many “friend-zoned” guys does it take to change a light bulb? None they’ll just compliment it and get pissed when it won’t screw.
This should be on billboards in every city.
(via poetics-ephemeral)
Satire needn’t be thuddingly didactic. It doesn’t need to provoke us into specific action, merely show the difference between virtue and vice. As Auden wrote, “Poetry is not concerned with telling people what to do, but with extending our knowledge of good and evil, perhaps making the necessity for action more urgent and its nature more clear, but only leading us to the point where it is possible for us to make a rational and moral choice.” It would be pretty to think, as so much poetry does, that the world is a place of revelation and light, if only poets show us the way to it. The best poets, however, never forget that the path to light often leads though the dark.
Thank you to my mom for sending me this article on finding “realism, humor, and intensity in the satiric impulse” in poetry. (via banangolit)
Never trust an atom they make up everything
get out
(via sorecklesssothoughtless)
Expectation is the root of all heartache.
William Shakespeare (via laceofpearls)
(via matt-collins)
whenever i wanna cry i think about Van Gogh he was such a nice and lonely dude all he wanted was for people to love him he ate yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him oh god oh god that’s so sad i can’t breathe
(via poetics-ephemeral)
The most beautiful emotion we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead, a snuffed-out candle. To sense that behind anything that can be experienced there is something that our minds cannot grasp, whose beauty and sublimity reaches us only indirectly: this is religiousness. In this sense, and in this sense only, I am a devoutly religious man.
Albert Einstein
1 month ago on April 22, 2013 at 12:56am
Solitude is never absolute. We are always with someone, even if it is only our shadow. We are never one—we are always we. These extremes are the poles of human life.
Octavio Paz (via theparisreview)
Chuck Palahniuk, Choke
