May Sarton, The Journals Of May Sarton Volume One

i have been meaning to reach out to you but the window was open and everything seemed so lovely outside so i forgot.. but i still love you give me just a minute

The calm sighs that escape when no one is looking. The whispered prayers in crowded jams. The way you press your palms to your chest, steadying breath when the world feels too heavy. I honour the surrendering it takes to say, "I'm fine.” When you're anything but, and the courage it takes to cry-I do not know all the stories we women carry. But I know they run deep. I honour every one of them.

Aidi Basi

lately I’ve been Overcome With Emotion

Whenever someone asks me how I'm feeling, how old I am or what I like to do in my free time, I feel like an alien who took over some random human's body and now has to prove that they are, in fact, that human.

“I tell you what I see—the landscape of the spirit requires a lung, but no tongue. I hold you few I love, till my heart is red as February and purple as March.”

— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Mrs. Holland written c. February 1856

i am going to check the despair. i am on this earth to read the poems my friends write and to fall in love w songs i hear through those i love and listen to my siblings thunderclap of wild laughter from the other room and crunch frost-bitten grass beneath my feet and watch pigeons jauntily flocking in and out of derelict windows and count dust motes in a shaft of early morning light in midwinter and and and and and. goodnight.

oh………,,,,,,, ok

Mary MacLane, from 'I Await the Devil's Coming'

TEXT ID: To you: "And don't you know, my dearest, my friendship with you contains other things? It contains infatuation, and worship, and bewitchment, and idolatry, and a tiny altar in my soul-chamber whereon is burning sweet incense in a little dish of blue and gold.

“Today is a wonderful day, an avalanche of light and I would like to stand with you in this rain of sunshine, to flow together, to melt into it… in mornings like this, life roars within me.”

—

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, January 13, 1950 [#128]

(via acknowledgetheabsurd)