“When someone cries so hard that it hurts their throat, it is out of frustration or knowing that no matter what you can do or attempt to do can change the situation. When you feel like you need to cry, when you want to just get it out, relieve some of the pressure from the inside - that is true pain. Because no matter how hard you try or how bad you want to, you can’t. That pain just stays in place. Then, if you are lucky, one small tear may escape from those eyes that water constantly. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of escape. Although it’s just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn’t do a damn thing to fix anything.”—Chase Brooks (via katyjean)
“Freethinkers are those who are willing to use their minds without prejudice and without fearing to understand things that clash with their own customs, privileges, or beliefs. This state of mind is not common, but it is essential for right thinking…”—Leo Tolstoy (via despero)
“I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.”—Haruki Murakami (South of the Border, West of the Sun)
“Ark of our passion, inflaming
A hummock of dark, as with torches,
When your blind blood was quickened
An epoch of ocean still slept in its gardens…”—Pablo Neruda, from “Leviathan,” trans. Ben Belitt (via proustitute)
“He fell to the seat, she by his side. There were no more words. The stars were beginning to shine. How was it that the birds sing, that the snow melts, that the rose opens, that May blooms, that the dawns whitens behind the black trees on the shivering summit of the hills?
One kiss, and that was all. Both trembled, and they looked at each other in the darkness with brilliant eyes. They felt neither the cool night, nor the cold stone, nor the damp ground, nor the wet grass; they looked at each other, and their hearts were full of thought. They had clasped hands, without knowing it.”—Victor Hugo (via ademptio)
“I wanted not so much to say as be said to—roaring sonar… elastic alphabet… amulet ears—in the torrid mix of wind and dust and rusty guitar, a swirling vault of pressed voices, untold clasps—I wanted him to…”—Aaron Shurin, from “In the Dome” in Citizen (via proustitute)
“There is regret. Always, there is regret.
But it is better that our lives unloose,
As two tall ships, wind-mastered, wet with light,
Break from an estuary with their courses set,
And waving part, and waving drop from sight.”—Philip Larkin, from “Love, We Must Part Now” (via proustitute)
“It is all very well our loving people, the pain of losing them, when in our isolation we are confronted with it alone, to which our mind gives, to a certain extent, whatever form it chooses, this pain is endurable and unusual as an accident in the moral world and in the region of our heart, which is caused not so much by the people themselves as by the manner in which we have learned that we are not to see them again.”—Marcel Proust, Albertine disparue, trans. Moncrieff and Kilmartin (via proustitute)