I keep thinking, thinking, and my thoughts are all sick, and my head is sick.
Fyodor Dostoevsky, from Stories; “The Meek One,” written c. 1876
Etikett: poetry
You are the saddest, for being the most beloved,
Delmira Agustini, from The Stars of the Abyss: Poems; “My Loves,”
Everything about me is unfinished, insufficient.
Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Lou Salomé written c. December 1905
“I’m in pain because the day is ending and somehow I am never healing.”
— Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait In Letters (via violentwavesofemotion)
Your sweet, happy heart will find itself again.
Thomas Mann, tr. by Willard R. Trask, from “The Black Swan,” wr. c. 1954
“Moon girls,
where did you go?”— Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems; “Iron Hans,” wr. c. 1963
“I was covered in blood but I couldn’t find my wound.”
My heart will not deliver me from my memories…
Aimé Césaire, from “And The Dogs Were Silent,”
The Complete Poetry of Aimé Césaire
The Complete Poetry of Aimé Césaire
(Wesleyan University Press, 2017
The night is warm with you.
Charles Baudelaire, The Flowers of Evil
beberequin 