December 2010
147 posts
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I am rooted, but I flow.
– The Waves, Virginia Woolf
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Lovelily they came descending, delicately declining, dropped down and sat silent...
– The Waves, Virginia Woolf
Lovelily, my new favourite word.
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Should I seek out some tree? Should I desert these form rooms and libraries, and...
– The Waves, Virginia Woolf
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
– Wislawa Szymborska, from “The Three Oddest Words,” translated by S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh (via aperfectcommotion)
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They take us for fallen trees.
– The Waves, Virginia Woolf
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I came to the puddle. I could not cross it. Identity failed me. We are nothing,...
– The Waves, Virginia Woolf
And just as Lauren Bacall asks him “Who was that girl Steve? The one who left you with such a high opinion of women. She must have been quite a gal”, the guy sitting next to her turns and looks at her.
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What moved the leaves? What moves my heart, my legs?
– The Waves, Virginia Woolf
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For much of her phantom loveliness came from accidents of the moment - the pale...
– Virginia Woolf on her half-sister Stella Duckworth in Reminiscences.
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Her wise brow and deep eyes presiding, so beautiful still, but now so worn, so...
– Virginia Woolf referring to her mother’s eyes in Reminiscences.
There is a flower I wish to wear,
But not until first worne by you…...
– Hearts-Ease, Walter Savage Landor
Viola tricolor:
heartsease, love-in-idleness, Johnny jump-up
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E a visão de uma só papoila, içando na ponta do seu cordame e fazendo vergastar...
– Em Busca do Tempo Perdido. Do Lado de Swann, Marcel Proust
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I enjoy almost everything. Yet I have some restless searcher in me. Why is there...
– A Writer’s Diary, Virginia Woolf
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Just try now, just try saying to such a girl, ‘You are eating yourself...
– The Sickness Unto Death, Soren Kierkegaard
I returned to Virginia Woolf’s diaries yesterday and found this quote I. had written inside the book.
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Set back from the street behind a stand of trees,
a shuttered house unnoticed...
– On Upnor Road, Elizabeth Spires
Received this poem today, made me smile.
“Our true face never speaks. Somewhere there must be storehouses where all these lives are laid away like suits of armor or old carriages or clothes hanging limply on the walls.
Maybe all paths lead there, to the repository of unlived things.”
Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Book of Pilgrimage in Rilke’s Book of Hours
(via aperfectcommotion)
Quando for para Londres, levarei comigo o sol da Fiama.