And what the dead had no speech for, when living,
They can tell you, being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
So long as I get SOMEWHERE...
Tackling the jungles of life and literature
Thanks to art, instead of seeing one world only, our own, we see that world multiply itself and we have at our disposal as many worlds as there are original artists, worlds more different one from the other than those which revolve in infinite space, worlds which, centuries after the extinction of the fire from which their light first emanated, whether it is called Rembrandt or Vermeer, send us still each one its special radiance.
(Source: leproustitute.blogspot.com, via proustitute)
92 notes &
For beauty is a sequence of hypotheses which ugliness cuts short when it bars the way that we could already see opening into the unknown.
2 notes &
http://www.cracked.com/blog/5-ways-we-ruined-occupy-wall-street-generation/
Pretty spot on, I’d say…
8 notes &
It occurs to me the Jay-Z/Kanye West song Niggas in Paris bares striking thematic similarities to Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. Perhaps ours is the true Lost Generation, if only because we’re the generation that had Lost.
(via l-live)
79 notes &
I feel compelled to add that I dislike your poetry very much; it is over-intellectual and afraid of those essential emotions which make poetry.
Excuse the impertinence of all this and its rather heavy style, due to a sort of pious terror.
1 note &
I’ve Not Forgotten About You!
I have become painfully aware of the fact that I have not posted an “original” work in a few weeks—life recently got incredibly busy! I have been doing some freelance projects, as well as amping up the career search, starting a NaNoWriMo novel, and attempting to have some semblance of a social life—plus my current full-time job. I will try to get better with balancing all of that AND this beloved tumblr—so stick with me!
All of the famous writers who have lived in DC, and where they lived, and pictures of their houses.
We are one block from Zora Neale Hurston’s college abode, and just a few blocks down from Philip K. Dick.
… perhaps it was also because of the extraordinary tricks dreams play with time that they fascinated me so much. Had I not in a single night, in one minute of a night, seen days of long ago which had been relegated to those great distances where we can distinguish hardly any of the sentiments we then felt, melt suddenly upon me, blinding me with their brightness as though they were giant aeroplanes instead of the pale stars we believed, making me see again all they had once held for me, giving me back the emotion, the shock, the vividness of their immediate nearness, then recede, when I woke, to the distance they had miraculously traversed, so that one believes, mistakenly however, that they are one of the means of recovering lost time.
(via l-live)
