la araña discoteca

"Divided, how can one pray? How can one pray when another oneself would be listening to the prayer?—That is why one should only pray in unknown words. Render enigma to enigma, enigma for enigma. Lift what is mystery in yourself to what is mystery in itself. There is something in you that is equal to what surpasses you."

Paul Valéry, from “How Calm the Hour Is” in Selected Writings, trans. Louise Varèse (via proustitute)

(Source: leproustitute.blogspot.com, via proustitute)

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"God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship—but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering."

Sylvia Plath (via storiesofwolves)

(Source: half-mute, via storiesofwolves-deactivated2011)

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"I sit in the garden
taking the late sun
as it sinks and slides
between the side
of the house
and the hawthorn.
Trailing the bench
across the lawn
to catch a final
finger of warmth,
a golden stretch
comes to rest
on a patch
of grass at my feet
—like a door.
A door in which
I wait for your
shadow to darken;
the door, which is
always left open."

Adam Wyeth, “The Door” (via proustitute)

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"We open our mouths and out flow words whose ancestries we do not even know. We are walking lexicons. In a single sentence of idle chatter we preserve Latin, Anglo-Saxon, Norse; we carry a museum inside our heads, each day we commemorate people of whom we have never heard. More than that, we speak volumes – our language is the language of everything we have read. Shakespeare and the Authorised Version surface in supermarkets, on buses, chatter on radio and television. I find this miraculous. I never cease to wonder at it. That words are more durable than anything, that they blow with the wind, hibernate and reawaken, shelter parasitic on the most unlikely hosts, survive and survive and survive."

Penelope Lively, Moon Tiger (via tiltwithlips)

(via corcordium)

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"There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don’t know and even the people you don’t want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face."

Lemony Snicket (via makelovetothemoon)

(via lucy-vanpelt)

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"

You don’t have to get a job that makes others feel comfortable about what they perceive as your success. You don’t have to explain what you plan to do with your life. You don’t have to justify your education by demonstrating its financial rewards. You don’t have to maintain an impeccable credit score. Anyone who expects you to do any of those things has no sense of history or economics or science or the arts.

You have to pay your own electric bill. You have to be kind. You have to give it all you got. You have to find people who love you truly and love them back with the same truth.

But that’s all.

"

Dear Sugar, The Rumpus (via brklyn)

(Source: cupofchi, via michelinamarie)

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"I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog."

from The Beatrice Letters by Lemony Snicket (via vega-ofthe-lyre)

(via michelinamarie)

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"When a beautiful actress is cast in a movie, executives rack their brains to find some kind of flaw in the character she plays that will still allow her to be palatable. She can’t be overweight or not perfect-looking, because who would pay to see that? A female who is not one hundred per cent perfect-looking in every way? You might as well film a dead squid decaying on a beach somewhere for two hours. So they make her a Klutz. The hundred-per-cent-perfect-looking female is perfect in every way except that she constantly bonks her head on things. She trips and falls and spills soup on her affable date (Josh Lucas. Is that his name? I know it’s two first names. Josh George? Brad Mike? Fred Tom? Yes, it’s Fred Tom). The Klutz clangs into stop signs while riding her bike and knocks over giant displays of fine china in department stores. Despite being five feet nine and weighing a hundred and ten pounds, she is basically like a drunk buffalo who has never been a part of human society. But Fred Tom loves her anyway."

Mindy Kaling on the women who only exist in romantic comedies | Flick Chicks (via rufustfirefly)

(via formerlyforeheadtittaes)

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"Why should I be respected and honored if I like to be spanked? Well, for my academic work, and my skill at my job, and my high reading speed, and my great memory, and the time I talked someone down from killing himself, and running one of the largest and fastest growing masculist blogs on the Internet, and volunteering, and caring for my romantic partners, and donating a lot of my income, and being kind and smart and optimistic and witty, and because I’m a human fucking being and you respect and honor human fucking beings because they are human. None of that is in any way less meaningful because my sex life is unconventional.

I mean, how morally bankrupt do you have to be to regard your main source of respect for a woman as what she does with her own personal vagina?"

Ozymandias’s Crushing and Venting Engine of Doom (via Figleaf’s Real Adult Sex)

(via previouslydidyoublush)

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