languageenfleur

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April 13, 1913 Letters to Felice by Franz Kafka First published : 1973

― Emily Dickinson

Albert Camus, The Fall Originally published: 1956

Kim Addonizio, from "'Round Midnight'", What Is This Thing Called Love

“Any idiot can face a crisis; it’s this day-to-day living that wears you out.”

—

Anton Chekhov (b. 29 January 1860)

I swear to you that to think too much is a disease, a real, actual disease. - Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from the Underground

“A man who does not think for himself does not think at all.”

— Oscar Wilde, The Soul of Man Under Socialism

“And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in.”

— Jane Austen

“When we’re most intense—who’ll flinch?”

— Arthur Rimbaud, from Selected Poems & Prose; “Phrases,”

“Life is that which must overcome itself again and again.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche

“You can’t betray yourself too often, or you become somebody else.”

— Ed Harris

“It is amazing what one ray of sunshine can do for a man!”

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Humiliated and Insulted

“—I want to change: I want to stop fear’s subtle / guidance of my life—”

— Frank Bidart, from Half-light: Collected Poems; “California Plush”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

“I let it go. It’s like swimming against the current. It exhausts you. After a while, whoever you are, you just have to let go, and the river brings you home.”

— Joanne Harris (via quotemadness)

Oscar Wilde, from At Verona

“I do understand—and it is terrible.”

— Franz Kafka, from a letter to Felice Bauer written c. July 1915, featured in “Letters to Felice,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

“With friends, one is well; but at home, one is better.”

— Leo Tolstoy (1847-1910), Anna Karenina

“What is bad for the heart is good for the art. The terrible irony of our lives as artists.”

— Jandy Nelson

Anaïs Nin, from “The diary of Anaïs Nin, vol. 3: 1939-1944”

Virginia Woolf ― Orlando: A Biography

Christina Rossetti, from Poems and Prose; “An Afterthought”

Text ID: Sure she kept one part of Eden / Angels could not strip her of.

“I am in a quiet way blooming.”

— May Sarton, Recovering: A Journal

Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Mary Bowles (about December 1858)

Postcolonial Love Poem, Natalie Diaz

Adonis, from Selected Poems; “This Is My Name” (tr. Khaled Mattawa)

“She never forgot that day; it was so bright and golden and fair, so free from shadow and so lavish of blossom.”

― L. M. Montgomery, from “Anne of Green Gables.”

“She was very private. I don’t think anyone will ever be able to totally capture her—she seemed so evanescent.”

— Joseph Mitchell

“…dusk is falling, I love you.”

— Marina Tsvetaeva, in a letter to Rainer Maria Rilke, from Letters Summer 1926: Pasternak, Tsvetaeva, Rilke (via loveage-moondream)