Mahmoud Darwish, With The Fog So Dense On The Bridge In Almond Blossoms And Beyond (tr. Mohammad Shaheen)

Anne Carson, from Grief lessons: Four plays by Euripides.

Rebecca Tamás, from Poems; “Witch,” originally published c.  2019

“My life is made up of ‘I’m sorry’. I feel like I have to apologize to people, to things, to life itself. It’s like, ‘I’m sorry to be here’. I don’t want to disturb anyone.”

— Yohji Yamamoto

when david kushner said “oh i love it and i hate it at the same time”, i thought about you

I feel like neither a child nor an adult. I am a botched, failed creature, combining the worst qualities of each. All the helplessness and dependency of a child, with the cynicism and despair of an adult. My mind is stunted, malformed. My body outgrew me and now I wield it clumsily, hitting others with my overgrown arms as I stumble over my own feet. "I am sorry," I say, "But I was treated as something less than human and that is what I've become."

“I am always between two worlds, always in conflict. I would like sometimes to rest, to be at peace, to choose a nook, make a final choice, but I can't. Some nameless, undescribable fear and anxiety keeps me on the move. On certain evenings like this, I would like to feel whole. Only a half of me is sitting by the fire.”

— Anaïs Nin, from “The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934.”

For old times sake is actually such a heartbreaking and beautiful sentiment. Like, let’s do it for the love that used to be here. It is reason enough.

Trista Mateer, from Small Ghost: Poems; "Small Ghost Checks Her Self History,"

Everyday I’m learning that you just have to keep going, cry a little bit, but keep going.