You Live In A House Of God; Praying On Your Knees; And Wonder Why He Never Saves You.

Anne Carson (2009)

Arthur S. Way (1898)

George Theodoridis (2010)

Ian C. Johnston (2010)

E.P. Coleridge (1910)

Theodore Alois Buckley (1892)

John Peck, Frank Nisetich (1995)

R. Potter (1906)

M. L. West (1987)

William Arrowsmith (1958)

Philip Vellacott (1972)

Michael Wodhull (1782)

Kenneth McLeish (1997)

David Kovacs (2002)

Andrew Wilson (1993)

Euripides - Original (408 BCE)

i love biting the bullet. i love opening a can of worms. i love putting all my eggs in one basket. i love burying the hatchet. i love crying over spilt milk. i love letting the cat out of the bag. i love wanting to have my cake and eat it too. i love counting my chickens before they’ve hatched. i love making my bed and laying in it. i love putting the cart before the horse. i love burning the candle at both ends. i love calling a spade a spade. i love the bottom of the barrel.

kiddie au for fun

this is not a question but i just wanna say that i really admire you and your writing a lot <33

oh 🥺 thank you so much. sending you love, anon.

what Work is the most important? the work you have to do next. narrow the scope of focus down to that singular glittering point.

the astronaut ⭐🧑‍🚀🌌!!

I love the idea of jewelry being passed down in a family. The stories that it tells, the bodies that have worn them. I find it so simple yet so pure.

alone with you in the ether by olivie blake

when jeanette winterson wrote “i want to be able to call you. i want to able to knock on your door. i want to able to keep your key and give you mine. i want there to be no gossip. i want to make supper with you. i want to go shopping with you. i want to know noting can come between us expect each other.” and when franz kafka wrote “you clam you haven’t done enough nice things for me, but is there anything nicer, any greater honor you can show me than simply being with me and allowing me to sit in front of you” and when james schuyler said “not to be in love with you i can’t remember what it was like it must’ve been lousy” and when caitlyn siehl “You are making breakfast in every dream that I have of you. You are in the kitchen, your soft middle pressed up against the cold marble countertops like a vision too beautiful for the magazines, sprinkling dark chocolate chips over pancakes. I think for a brief second that I am dreaming inside of my dream, that I had to make you up twice, just to get it right. You, brushing your dark hair out of your face, smearing batter across your cheeks. You have come and made my dreams smaller, narrower. Filled them with sugar and your body humming in the same room as mine. I dream, now, of a normal life with you. A life where breakfast lasts until the sun goes down, until I have finished gazing at you from across the table, flour dried to your forehead like a kiss.” and when sanna wani wrote “I want to eat fruit the same way you eat fruit with your lips not your teeth tongues stained with juice when I smile I want you to smile back wipe the corner of my mouth with your thumb kiss me kiss your thumb show me how fruit tastes in your mouth just a touch different from how it tastes in mine” and when daniel walsh said “I crave the simplest love of you with you. a cold night, warm sheets, and your skin against my own. certainly, that is all I could ever ask for.” and edna st. vincent millay wrote “I am going to make you love me. sweetheart, what I mean is: I want to sit on the edge of your bed while you have your breakfast - i want to laugh with you, be incredibly silly, be incredibly happy, be like children, and I want to kiss you more than anything in the world.”