Literature is My (Su)rreal Utopia

Literature is My (Su)rreal Utopia

Sunday, 6 September 2015

Sputnik sweetheart

Sputnik sweetheart

Publicado por Marina Hurt en 23:05 No comments:
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Literature

Literature

#QuotesThatDefineMyself

I had never lost my interest in books. Reading was my scape and my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant of choice: reading for the pure pleasure of it, for the beautiful stillness that surrounds you when you hear an author´s words reverberating in your head.

BROOKLIN FOLLIES, Paul Auster

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Entradas populares

  • Teach me I am forgotten by the dead, by Ralph Waldo Emerson
    Teach me I am forgotten by the dead And that the dead is by herself forgot And I no longer would keep terms with me. I would not murder,...
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    And I behold once more My old familiar haunts; here the blue river, The same blue wonder that my infant eye Admired, sage doubting whence ...
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    Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and...
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    A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrou...
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    The moon is the mother of pathos and pity. When, at the wearier end of November, Her old light moves along the branches, Feebly, slowly,...
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    O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm, That flies in the night In the howling storm: Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his ...
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    I wandered lonely as a Cloud That floats on high o’er Vales and Hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden Daffodils; Beside ...
  • Christina Rossetti
    “Lie still, lie still, my breaking  heart;  My silent heart, lie still and break:  Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed  For...

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