"My mother said: you died like any man.
How shall I age into that state of mind?
I am the ghost of an infamous suicide,
My own blue razor rusting at my throat.
O pardon the one who knocks for pardon at
Your gate, father - your hound-bitch, daughter, friend.
It was my love that did us both to death."
—
From Sylvia Plath’s “Electra on Azalea Path”
Sylvia Plath died today in 1963. May she rest in peace.
"Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost,
No birth, identity, form—no object of the world.
Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;
Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain.
Ample are time and space—ample the fields of Nature.
The body, sluggish, aged, cold—the embers left from earlier fires,
The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again;
The sun now low in the west rises for mornings and for noons continual;
To frozen clods ever the spring’s invisible law returns,
With grass and flowers and summer fruits and corn."
— “Continuities” - Walt Whitman
"it’s not the large things that
send a man to the
madhouse."
— Charles Bukowski
"If you’re losing your soul and you know it, then you’ve still got a soul left to lose."
— Charles Bukowski
(Source: theunquotables)
hi everyone!
So I made a personal blog a while back, but I’ve neglected it until very recently. I’ve decided that I’m going to turn it into mainly a poetry blog, while still posting some personal stuff when I feel the need (especially now that so much in my life is about to change). If you like poetry and are interested in following that blog, here is the URL. Thanks guys <3
fateandhistory.tumblr.com
"Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in a the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence."
— Sylvia Plath
"
We rest.—A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond foe, or cast our cares away:
It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutability.
"
— Percy Bysshe Shelley, from “Mutability”
(Source: heteroglossia, via faulknerandfieldnotes)
"What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music."
— Soren Kierkegaard
"Every day should be a miracle instead
of a machination."
— Charles Bukowski - “Fingernails; Nostrils; Shoelaces”
"We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing"
— Charles Bukowski
(Source: calmlysuicidal, via anti-teachings)
"Philosophy lies closer to poetry than to science."
— Miguel de Unamuno - The Tragic Sense of Life
"Time is very slow for those who wait, very fast for those who are scared, very long for those who lament, very short for those who celebrate, but for those who love, time is eternal."
— William Shakespeare
(Source: sennabrooke, via tremulous-beauty-deactivated201)
