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
I keep thinking, thinking, and my thoughts are all sick, and my head is sick.
You are the saddest, for being the most beloved,
Everything about me is unfinished, insufficient.
“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.
“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…
(Wesleyan University Press, 2017
The night is warm with you.