“You are reborn with the roses, in every spring.”
— Juan Ramón Jiménez, from The Selected Writings; “Love,” wr. c. 1911
“The blossoms fell down like white feathers,”
— Mary Oliver, from Strawberry Moon in “Twelve Moons”
Dipping a toe then another and another until submerging your whole body into the unchartered waters of yourself after years of living in suspension
“The bowl of wild roses. The English knives and forks. Greek cigarettes. The battered and sea-stained notebook in which I rough out my poems.”
— Lawrence Durrel, from Prospero’s Cell: and Reflections on a Marine Venus (1945)
“Who attached these heavy wings on my shoulders?”
— Marina Tsvetaeva, from “Bride of Ice.”
“Now I feel that I’m afraid of revealing myself. Afraid that what I wrote will leave me vulnerable and no longer able to defend myself.”
— Liv Ullmann, from Changing
“I’m so old-fashioned, darling, that all your friends would stare.”
— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Austin Dickinson wr. c. August 1851
(via violentwavesofemotion)
“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.”
― Anatole France
“You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms.”
— Anna Akhmatova, You Will Hear Thunder
— Rainer Maria Rilke