"... What we have here is a dreamer. Someone completely out of touch with reality. When she jumped, she probably thought she would fly."
— The Virgin Suicides
Constantin Brancusi. Portrait of the dancer Marthe Lebherz (¾) in stage costume, 1925 - 1928.
“Today on the way home it snows. Big soft caressing flakes fall onto our skin like cold moths; the air fills with feathers.”
— Margaret Atwood, Cat’s Eye
Silver mirror, Roman, 4th century AD
from The Metropolitan Museum of Art
I choke. I am rocked from side to side by the violence of my emotion.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
This is inhuman –
yet it’s mine.
— Marina Tsvetaeva, ‘Wires’ Bride of Ice: New Selected Poems (translated by Elaine Feinstein)
This thing of darkness I
Acknowledge mine.
— William Shakespeare, The Tempest
I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
— Sylvia Plath, ‘Elm’
“I will tell you what she was like. She was like a piano in a country where everyone has had their hands cut off.”
— Angela Carter
"from: gran"
“The star grew pale and hid her face / In a bit of floating cloud like lace.”
— Sara Teasdale, The Star from Rivers to the Sea, 1915
Simone Rocha S/S 2022
The romance of being alone in your room at night
Sylvia Plath, from a diary entry featured in The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (edited)
John Keats, from “Ode to a Nightingale” (1819)