Oct 13
Writing breaks open the vaults of the dead and the skies behind which the prophesying angels hide. The mind makes and makes, spinning its webs.
— Sylvia Plath (via girlmeetsdream)
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Oct 06
Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love.
— The Unbearable Lightness of Being (via 52hearts)
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Oct 06
…But as it is, I’m like an insect that’s flown into a room of its own accord. I dash against the walls, dash against the windows, flop against the ceiling, do everything on God’s earth in fact, except fly out again. And all the while, I’m thinking, like that moth, or that butterfly, or whatever it is, ‘The shortness of life! The shortness of life! I’ve only one night or one day and there’s this vast dangerous garden, undiscovered, unexplored.
— At The Bay, Katherine Mansfield. (via streebgreeblings)
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