“If I love you I have to make you conscious of the things that you don’t see.” - James Baldwin
Ferguson October

“If I love you I have to make you conscious of the things that you don’t see.” - James Baldwin
Ferguson October
― Nicole Krauss, The History of Love
[ text ID: When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything? ]
“Well, what are you?… What are you conscious of in yourself? Your kidneys? Your liver? Your blood vessels? No. However far back you go in your memory, it is always in some external, active manifestation of yourself that you come across your identity…in the work of your hands, in your family, in other people. And now listen carefully. You in others…this is your soul. This is what you are. This is what your consciousness has breathed and lived on and enjoyed throughout your life…your soul, your immortality, your life in others. And what now? You have always been in others and you will remain in others. And what does it matter to you if later on that is called your memory? This will be you…the you that enters the future and becomes part of it.”
— Boris Pasternak
always remember that love will always come back to u. in a different form, different person, different hobby, different touch. but in any way, love will always come back.
“Franz Kafka, the story goes, encountered a little girl in the park where he went walking daily. She was crying. She had lost her doll and was desolate.
Kafka offered to help her look for the doll and arranged to meet her the next day at the same spot. Unable to find the doll he composed a letter from the doll and read it to her when they met.
“Please do not mourn me, I have gone on a trip to see the world. I will write you of my adventures.” This was the beginning of many letters. When he and the little girl met he read her from these carefully composed letters the imagined adventures of the beloved doll. The little girl was comforted.
When the meetings came to an end Kafka presented her with a doll. She obviously looked different from the original doll. An attached letter explained: “my travels have changed me… “
Many years later, the now grown girl found a letter stuffed into an unnoticed crevice in the cherished replacement doll. In summary it said: “every thing that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.”
-May Benatar, The Pervasiveness of Loss
Pablo Neruda, The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems // @sunsbleeding // Anaïs Nin, from Henry & June; A Journal of Love: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin (1932–1934) // Kailah Figueroa, from “june 4th, new york city,” published in Homology Lit
We are seeing, then, that our experience is altogether momentary. From one point of view, each moment is so elusive and so brief that we cannot even think about it before it has gone. From another point of view, this moment is always here, since we know no other moment than the present moment. It is always dying, always becoming past more rapidly than imagination can conceive. Yet at the same time it is always being born, always new, emerging just as rapidly from that complete unknown which we call the future. Thinking about it almost makes you breathless.
— Alan Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity
Louise Glück, Poems 1962-2012
Maya Angelou, from Letter to My Daughter
[Text ID: I am convinced that most people do not grow up. We find parking spaces and honor our credit cards. We marry and dare to have children and call that growing up. I think what we do is mostly grow old. We carry accumulation of years in our bodies and on our faces, but generally our real selves, the children inside, are still innocent and shy as magnolias. We may act sophisticated and worldly but I believe we feel safest when we go inside ourselves and find home, a place where we belong and maybe the only place we really do.]
Joan Didion, “On Keeping a Notebook”
Earth and Moon, as seen from Gemini 7 on this day in 1965.
— Nayyirah Waheed, Warsan Shire, from Kept Honey
“The best moments in reading are when you come across something–a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things–which you had thought special and particular to you. And now, here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.”
— Alan Bennett, The History Boys
“We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, Me and you.”
— Sylvia Plath, Ariel
mood; wanna lay down amongst the clovers and forget about my existence
INTERVIEWER: What do you think is the ultimate impulse to write?
SALTER: To write? Because all this is going to vanish. The only thing left will be the prose and poems, the books, what is written down. Man was very fortunate to have invented the book. Without it the past would completely vanish, and we would be left with nothing, we would be naked on earth.
— James Salter, from The Art of Fiction No. 133