Couvertures de sérénité




(via citrum)

"My body is made up of saltwater and wishes, and a thousand star fish that try to mimic the constellations. And sometimes, that’s all I ever want to do: imitate the sky so that you can find a home somewhere within me."

Megan Madgwick

(Source: iamcharliesangel, via word-digest)

"I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because romantic doesn’t mean sugary. It’s dark and tormented — the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can’t attain."

Catherine Breillat, “Interview by Martin Tsai,” The New York Sun 

(Source: wordsnquotes, via magicclouds)

"Yearning for permanence, and who wouldn’t?
Longing to believe it will last forever,
But what does? Nothing I know of.

Even the things that seem to stand still
Flow slowly into other forms.

The beloved’s first and only lesson:
Everything that is, becomes."

Gregory Orr, ”Yearning for permanence, and who wouldn’t,” from River Inside the River: Three Lyric Sequences (W. W. Norton & Co., 2013)

(Source: apoetreflects, via 0aklungs)

(via desertionexodus)

"You don’t survive in me
because of memories;
nor are you mine because
of a lovely longing’s strength.

What does make you present
is the ardent detour
that a slow tenderness
traces in my blood.

I do not need
to see you appear;
being born sufficed for me
to lose you a little less."

Rainer Maria Rilke, “Interior Portrait

(Source: hush-syrup, via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

"How could I know you fit my body like a glove? You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me.

I have time. Please, devour me."

Marguerite Duras, Hiroshima mon amour  

(Source: frenchtwist, via ohdreaming)

"Their eyes met for a second; but they did not want to speak to each other. They had nothing to say, but something seemed, nevertheless, to go from him to her."

Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse 

(Source: theunquotables, via middecember)


©  Daidō Moriyama - From the book “Northern”


©  Daidō Moriyama - From the book “Northern”

(via horseplacenta)

"Maybe I’m getting tired – I can’t think of anything but nights with you. I want them warm and silvery."

Zelda Fitzgerald, “Letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald,” May 1919

(Source: wordsnquotes, via sweetpotatopig)

"Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire."

Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse

(Source:, via 0aklungs)

"I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else."

Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek 

(Source: poetrist)