I tell my stories as the reed/ Plucked from its native wild/ Murmurs; oh Rose, listen! I tell/ The grief of hearts exiled
If nothing saves us
from death, may
love at least save
us from life.

Pablo Neruda (via intomymindseye)


I’m sick of you hypocrites babbling about gods!
Rationality is what you have, you don’t believe
In Helios, nor the sea being, nor the thunder being;
And the earth is a corpse so why thank her?
As for you gods, be calm! You are decorations in their poems…

© Friedrich Holderlin, ‘News of The Universe’, pg. 39 (Sierra Club Books, 1980) as quoted in ‘Wolf Mother as Therapist’ by Martin Shaw

Nizar Qabbani

Nizar Qabbani

Still, the sun was hot. Still, one got over things. Still, life had a way of adding day to day.

— Virginia Woolf, from Mrs. Dalloway (via violentwavesofemotion)

Listen to me as one listens to the rain,
not attentive, not distracted,
light footsteps, thin drizzle,
water that is air, air that is time.

Listen to me as one listens to the rain,
without listening, hear what I say
with eyes open inward, asleep
with all five senses awake,
it’s raining, light footsteps, a murmur of syllables,
air and water, words with no weight:
what we are and are,
the days and years, this moment,
weightless time and heavy sorrow,

Listen to me as one listens to the rain.

— Octavio Paz, from Listen To Me (via harfqa)


Crazy [Cover] by Daniela Andrade

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