"The love of books. My library is an archive of longings."
— Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh (via sketchofthepast)
"Writing: a way of leaving no space for death, of pushing back forgetfulness, of never letting oneself be surprised by the abyss. Of never becoming resigned, consoled; never turning over in bed to face the wall and drift asleep again as if nothing had happened; as if nothing could happen."
— Hélène Cixous, “Coming to Writing and other Essays” (via awritersruminations)
"In the months that follow you bend to the work, because it feels like hope, like grace - and because you know in your lying cheater’s heart that sometimes a start is all we ever get."
— Junot Diaz, from This Is How You Lose Her (via the-final-sentence)
"Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of welcome show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find the mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness find you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love."
— W. H. Auden, from “Lullaby” (via the-final-sentence)