the-book-diaries:

“I can barely conceive of a type of beauty in which there is no Melancholy.”

— Charles Baudelaire, The Flowers of Evil

finita–la–commedia:

“I don’t know the state of my heart — except this much: Many times I looked for it; many times you found it.”

— Ghalib (1779-1869), from Ghazal # 3
in ”Ghalib. Selected Poems and Letters”. Edited and translated by Frances W. Pritchett and Owen T. A. Cornwall
(via finita–la–commedia)

memoryslandscape:

“This is all that’s left, the metaphoric body of an idea which only exists as a way to say: –it’s been dark for so long.”

— Beatriz Hierro Lopes, closing lines to “It’s Almost Dark,” trans. Ana Hudson, É quase noite (It’s Almost Night) (Averno, 2013)

metaphorformetaphor:

“This heart is small but I have never been able to understand how it can take so much suffering and still go on beating. But it does. It does. I don’t know how.”

— Ben Okri, from Dangerous Love (Orion Pub Co, 1999)

metaphorformetaphor:

“I am a book of apocalypses written in a language I don’t speak and I have no author.”

— Hélène Cixous, from Reveries of the Wild Woman: Primal Scenes (Northwestern University Press, 2006)