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Consume my heart away;

W.B. Yeats, from The Collected Poems; “Sailing to Byzantium,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

I knew and know, I felt and feel.

Audre Lorde, from “I am Your Sister: Collected and Unpublished writings of Audre Lorde,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)

I want to surround myself with beauty.

Gabriela Mistral, from Selected Prose & Prose Poems; “The Hush,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)

And I shall tempt – and I shall tempt.

Fyodor Sologub, from Poems; “When Heaving on the Stormy Waters,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

I am infatuated with the private life, and with anonymity; perhaps even invisibility.

Joyce Carol Oates, from a journal entry
(via mrsclarkkent)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via mrsclarkkent)

I have started putting my pieces back together.

Anne Sexton, from a letter to W.D. Snodgrass wr. c. June 1959 (via violentwavesofemotion)

A new summer has blossomed in my soul.

Henrik Ibsen, from The Complete Plays & Works; “Rosmersholm,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)

Do I live in a dream on another planet?

Edith Södergran, from Love & Solitude: Poems (1916 - 1923); “Fragment,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)

She was conscious of an inexpressible tenderness in her heart,

Anton Chekhov, from The Complete Works of Anton Chekhov; “The Two Volodyas,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)

Books change things. Hearts, minds, souls. Cultures. People.

What are you reading? (via mrsclarkkent)

(Source: bookeworm94, via mrsclarkkent)

A land of fragrance, quietness, and trees, and flowers.

John Keats, from The Complete Poems & Selected Letters; “Hyperion,”
(via mrsclarkkent)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via mrsclarkkent)

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.

Carl Sandburg (via kristensnotebook)

(Source: kristensnotebook, via peoncessagnes)

And my desire?
Infinite space.

Jeanette Winterson, from Weight: The Myth of Atlas and Heracles (via gansaey)

(Source: luthienne, via gwen-stacy)