(Source: heavymuffintop, via heavymuffintop)
femmes: getting the shit kicked out of their hearts and making it look really fucking good since forever
The world — whatever we might think when terrified by its vastness and our own impotence, or embittered by its indifference to individual suffering, of people, animals, and perhaps even plants, for why are we so sure that plants feel no pain; whatever we might think of its expanses pierced by the rays of stars surrounded by planets we’ve just begun to discover, planets already dead? still dead? we just don’t know; whatever we might think of this measureless theater to which we’ve got reserved tickets, but tickets whose lifespan is laughably short, bounded as it is by two arbitrary dates; whatever else we might think of this world — it is astonishing.
— Wisława Szymborska
(Source: withnailrules)
we are afraid in a fear which we cannot know, which we cannot face, which none understands, and our hearts are torn from us, our brains unskinned like the layers of an onion, our selves are lost lost in a final fear which none understands.
—t.s. eliot, murder in the cathedral
(Source: morethandefunct)
A tree with nazars (evil eye stones) on it in Cappadocia, Turkey.
Photographed by Shakko
(Source: fuckyeahmiddleeast, via viskningar)
I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.
— Franz Kafka
(Source: kafkaesque-world, via glowing-ovaries)
...
“Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it’s all a male fantasy: that you’re strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren’t catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you’re unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur.”
—Margaret Atwood, The Robber Bride
Strange Hurt
In times of stormy weather
She felt queer pain
That said,
“You’ll find rain better
Than shelter from the rain.”Days filled with fiery sunshine
Strange hurt she knew
That made
Her seek the burning sunlight
Rather than the shade.In months of snowy winter
When cozy houses hold,
She’d break down doors
To wander naked
In the cold.Langston Hughes
(Source: thirdeyeblinking, via sirensandwine)
