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But my very latest discovery made me feel better. I had found that every rooster has his own Spain and he has it under his feathers.

 Nikolai GogolDiary of a Madman and Other Stories

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1/10 prose: The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood

Laura was unperturbed. ‘It’s the colour of their souls,’ she said. ‘It’s the colours they ought to have been.’ 

I picked up the photograph of the two of us. ‘Why am I blue?’

'Because you're asleep.' said Laura.

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literature meme: poets [1/5]

Pablo Neruda was the pen name and, later, legal name of the Chilean poet, diplomat and politician Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto. He chose his pen name after Czech poet Jan Neruda. In 1971 Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Neruda became known as a poet while still a teenager. He wrote in a variety of styles including surrealist poems, historical epics, overtly political manifestos, a prose autobiography, and erotically-charged love poems such as the ones in his 1924 collection Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. He often wrote in green ink as it was his personal symbol for desire and hope with his poetry.


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I felt so full of love for everything. But at the same time, I felt so hung out there to dry, like nobody could ever understand. I felt so alone in this world, and so loved at the same time.

— Bee, ‘Where’d You Go, Bernadette?’ - Maria Semple (via winstons-and-enochs)

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You can never totally hate someone who sang you to sleep like that, can you? Who calmed you down and eased your fears. You can feel angry and betrayed, but some part of you will always love them for being there on those scary nights, for giving you a place to run to where your nightmares couldn’t follow, the one place where you could descend finally into slumber knowing, at least for the time being, that you were completely safe.

— Jonathan Tropper, Everything Changes (via simply-quotes)

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Take back the smile and the night, take it all back, I wish I could.

— Daniel Handler, Why We Broke Up (via literaryabortions)

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I am not the first person you loved.

You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers.

We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin.

Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night.

Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come.

I think that has to be part of its miracle.

This is how we heal.

I will kiss you like forgiveness. You will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book. I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin. I will write novels to the scar of your nose. I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way it feels to have finally, finally found you.

And I will not be afraid of your scars.

I know sometimes it’s still hard to let me see you in all your cracked perfection, but please know:

Whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap, your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I will love you when you are a still day.

I will love you when you are a hurricane.

Clementine von Radics, Mouthful of Forevers (via sagaciousefflundancy)

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Tadao Ando, Shiba Ryotaro Memorial Museum, 2001. Osaka, Japan. It is the home of 20,000 books of the japanese novelist, collected during his lifetime. Photo: Alex Roman. Source

I thought I was hallucinating, I couldn’t believe all those were books *_*

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