"Maybe I am a monster, after all."
- Mohsin Hamid, from Moth Smoke (thanks, crushingustin)
(Source: the-final-sentence)
(Source: verano-muerto, via fuckthereallife)
Great Tales of Horror and Suspense - Dracula (1974 Galahad Books) illustrations by Harry Borgman part 2
(via fuckthereallife)
A woman visiting a grave in a cemetery. Photograph by Jack Birns. Macau, July 1949.
(via fuckthereallife)
"At times poetry is the vertigo of bodies and the vertigo of speech and the vertigo of death; the walk with eyes closed along the edge of the cliff, and the verbena in submarine gardens; the laughter that sets on fire the rules and the holy commandments; the descent of parachuting words onto the sands of the page; the despair that boards a paper boat and crosses, for forty nights and forty days, the night-sorrow sea and the day-sorrow desert; the idolatry of the self and the desecration of the self and the dissipation of the self; the beheading of epithets, the burial of mirrors; the recollection of pronouns freshly cut in the garden of Epicurus, and the garden of Netzahualcoyotl; the flute solo on the terrace of memory and the dance of flames in the cave of thought; the migrations of millions of verbs, wings and claws, seeds and hands; the nouns, bony and full of roots, planted on the waves of language; the love unseen and the love unheard and the love unsaid: the love in love. Syllables seeds."
- Proem by Octavio Paz, translated by Elliot Weinberger (via growing-orbits)
