Sue Zhao // Dialogues On Love #4 // “Maybe I Already Do”

How truly romantic would that be. 

to love a poet; to be immortalized in verse

There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in it’s life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest, it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above it’s own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But, the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain… Or so says the legend.

Colleen McCullough, The Thorn Birds

I don’t know why but I don’t think I’ll ever forget this. 

“Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”

— Fyodor Dosteovsky, Crime and Punishment (source)

Lord Byron — To the Countess of Blessington

Sonnet Macabre by Theodore Wratislaw

I love you for the grief that lurks within

Your languid spirit, and because you wear

Corruption with a vague and childish air,

And with your beauty know the depths of sin;

Because shame cuts and holds you like a gin,

And virtue dies in you slain by despair,

Since evil has you tangled in its snare

And triumphs on the soul good cannot win.

I love you since you know remorse and tears,

And in your troubled loveliness appears

The spot of ancient crimes that writhe and hiss:

I love you for your hands that calm and bless,

The perfume of your sad and slow caress,

The avid poison of your subtle kiss.

i’m not in my virginia woolf era but i can see her at the end of the hallway waiting her turn

Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary

Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.

Kait Rokowski

Felt this. Way too much.

when Charles Bukowski said "and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?"