My God, how brave people are in general and how hard it is for everyone to go on living.
Monique Sindler, Diaries. (via literarymiscellany)
i said to the sun, tell me about the big bang. the sun said, it hurts to become.
andrea gibson, i sing the body electric, especially when my power’s out (via petrichour)
Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire.
Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse (via petrichour)
Maybe I’m getting tired – I can’t think of anything but nights with you. I want them warm and silvery.
Zelda Fitzgerald, “Letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald,” May 1919 (via petrichour)
How could I know you fit my body like a glove? You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me.
I have time. Please, devour me.
Marguerite Duras, Hiroshima mon amour (via petrichour)