@thebbluebbird

but the words, oh the words
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“The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction the weight, the weight we carry is love. Who can deny? In dreams it touches the body, in thought constructs a miracle, in imagination anguishes till born in human - looks out of the heart burning with purity - for the burden of life is love, but we carry the weight wearily, and so must rest in the arms of love at last, must rest in the arms of love. No rest without love, no sleep without dreams of love - be mad or chill obsessed with angels or machines, the final wish is love - cannot be bitter, cannot deny, cannot withhold if denied: the weight is too heavy - must give for no return as thought is given in solitude in all the excellence of its excess. The warm bodies shine together in the darkness, the hand moves to the center of the flesh, the skin trembles in happiness and the soul comes joyful to the eye - yes, yes, that’s what I wanted, I always wanted, I always wanted, to return to the body where I was born.” 

― Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems

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“Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made, or by dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused.”

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“Don’t be intimidated by other people’s opinions. Only mediocrity is sure of itself, so take risks and do what you really want to do.”

— Paulo Coelho

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“She has been through hell - so believe me when I say, ‘fear her when she looks into a fire and smiles.’”

— e. corona

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“I basically have two moods: either let’s do something spontaneous and awesome, or let’s just lie down in bed all day and forget the world exists.”

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“All I want is tenderness and humanity. You have become something else.”

Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Henry Miller written c. September 1942

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“As for myself, I had a lot to say. But I was silent.”

Albert Camus, from Youthful Writings; “Intuitions,” wr. c. 1932

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“You will walk differently alone, dear, through a thicker atmosphere, forcing your way through the shadows of chairs, through the dripping smoke of the funnels. You will feel your own reflection sliding along the eyes of those who look at you. You are no longer insulated; but I suppose you must touch life in order to spring from it.”

F. Scott Fitzgerald