Aug 7, 2014

annmarcaida:

image

Little fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death,

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die?

*********************************************************************************

Author: William Blake

Image: Kazuka Akimoto

Aug 7, 2014
You can fall a long way in sunlight.
You can fall a long way in the rain.
Robert Hass, August Notebook: A Death [3] (via raisethecurve)
Aug 7, 2014
There is a kind of happiness and wonder that makes you serious. It is too good to waste on jokes.
C.S. Lewis (via observando)
Jun 18, 2014
If you’ve been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing was ever going to happen again.
C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (via larmoyante)
Jun 18, 2014
There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.
John Green | The Fault in Our Stars (via tfios)
May 22, 2014

likeafieldmouse:

John Divola - As Far As I Could Get (1996-7)

May 3, 2014
Life is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel.
Jean Racine (via observando)
Apr 29, 2014
He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.
Richard Siken, Anyway (via larmoyante)
Apr 27, 2014

universitybookstore:

The response has been, well… overwhelming here at the bookstore. Poems That Make Grown Men Cry: 100 Men on the Words That Move Them, edited by Anthony and Ben Holden, new from Simon and Schuster, is a really good, and almost unbelievably effective book. (Better read it when you’re alone, dude.)

Apr 12, 2014
theparisreview:

“Only the Mistakes Belong to Us”—Jorge Luis Borges
This tree keeps falling over. I prop it up,it falls again. And the rain fallsday after day like a broken wet record.Here are the birds—tiny, smaller
than birds. And like fresh butcher’spaper, the light so bright it hurts.So the birds are paper and so is the sky.It will be easiest if I draw you a picture,
each of us a different shade of gray.What goes right is an accident. It can’tbe blamed on us. What goes wrong
is almost impossible to see. How quicklyit disappears, like someone’s handinto someone else’s pocket.
—Matthew Thorburn. Art: Rachel Wolfson.

theparisreview:

“Only the Mistakes Belong to Us”
—Jorge Luis Borges

This tree keeps falling over. I prop it up,
it falls again. And the rain falls
day after day like a broken wet record.
Here are the birds—tiny, smaller

than birds. And like fresh butcher’s
paper, the light so bright it hurts.
So the birds are paper and so is the sky.
It will be easiest if I draw you a picture,

each of us a different shade of gray.
What goes right is an accident. It can’t
be blamed on us. What goes wrong

is almost impossible to see. How quickly
it disappears, like someone’s hand
into someone else’s pocket.

Matthew Thorburn. Art: Rachel Wolfson.

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