April 2012
77 posts
“My 4 Year Old On What Makes a Good Shoe
1. “They should be fast.”...”
– Heading East: My 4 Year Old On What Makes a Good Shoe
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poetbabble:
Say you promise to be at your desk in the evenings from seven to nine. It waits, It watches. If you are reliably there, it begins to show itself - soon it begins to arrive when you do. But if you are only there sometimes and are frequently late or inattentive, it will appear fleetingly or it will not appear at all. Why should it? It can wait. It can stay silent a lifetime. —Mary...
“As I write this now, it occurs to me that the peculiarity of most things we...”
– Neil Gaiman, from his collection of stories, “Fragile Things”.
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Denise Levertov, "Intrusion"
sharingpoetry:
After I had cut off my hands and grown new ones something my former hands had longed for came and asked to be rocked. After my plucked out eyes had withered, and new ones grown something my former eyes had wept for came asking to be pitied.
(submitted by refinedhedonism)
“To photograph is to hold one’s breath, when all faculties converge to capture...”
– Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Minds Eye
See Cartier-Bresson’s rare color photographs here. (via life)
“She smiled: that cheerless new pinch of a smile. “But what aboutme?”...”
– Truman Capote - Breakfast at Tiffany’s | My favourite line, and always will be.
“I remember desperately not wanting to go to bed or wake up alone that week. But...”
– author of salvation: clementi mama | This is every day.
“I will never do any memory the injustice of calling our younger selves...”
– author of salvation
“Trying to gather the pieces of my life back together, and I know, maybe, you are...”
– Poets at Lunch by Stanley Moss « Read A Little Poetry
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Pat Mora, "Elena"
sharingpoetry:
My Spanish isn’t good enough I remember how I’d smile listening to my little ones understanding every word they’d say, their jokes, their songs, their plots Vamos a pedirle dulces a mama. Vamos. But that was in Mexico. Now my children go to American high schools. They speak English. At night they sit around the kitchen table, laugh with one another. I stand by the...
“And now
I want to be left
without words. To know how to lose
what is being...”
– Mirta Rosenberg, from “Portrait Ended” (translated by Julie Wark)
“After reading all these comments what is patently obvious at least to me, is...”
– This one comment stood out to me. I picked up a phrase some time back: “History favours the optimistic”. It’s not about ignoring criticism, it’s about being progressive and believing. We are the little nation who could and we can do even better in the face of challenges. It...
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Lamenting The Friend Zone, Or: The “Nice Guy”...
fozmeadows:
Everyone’s heard of friendzoning – even if they don’t know the word, they sure as hell know the concept. It’s what happens time and again to unfortunate Nice Guys who, despite being nothing but sugar and spice to the girls they love, are nonetheless denied the sexual relationships they so obviously deserve and are instead treated like platonic equals – a terrible, unfair fate spawned...
“Slut” is how we vilify a woman for exercising her right to say “yes”....”
– (via buildingmosaicsoutoflife)
“I understand that some people wake up itching to write. They feel as though they...”
– Orangette: How we do what we do | This is by far one of my favourite quotes on writing.
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“They’re just adults who’ve forgotten what it was like to have to...”
– A Note About Panther Pride - Anil Dash
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“I was going to die, sooner or later, whether or not I had even spoken myself. My...”
– Audre Lorde (via diamondmind)
Fish: a tap essay →
This is something to go back to. If you have an iPhone, it is very worth your read. (Essay in app format.)
“That is what death means. We exist in the minds of other people, in thousands of...”
– I remember you - Roger Ebert’s Journal
the bends
dictionaryofobscuresorrows:
n. frustration that you’re not enjoying an experience as much as you should, even something you’ve worked for years to attain, which prompts you to plug in various thought combinations to try for anything more than static emotional blankness, as if your heart had been accidentally demagnetized by a surge of expectations.
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