(Source: max-overdrive)

  • 5 months ago
  • 870
How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other’s bodies, […]
How do they come to the
come to the—-come to the—-God—-come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind, […]
—just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

— Sharon Olds, The Dead and the Living

  • 5 months ago
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  • 5 months ago
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To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget

— Arundhati Roy, The Cost of Living

(Source: oldgreyhamster)

  • 5 months ago
  • 36
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(Source: hellanne)

  • 5 months ago
  • 31195