January 2012
“A spider lives inside my head
Who weaves a strange and wondrous web
Of silken threads and silver strings
To catch all sorts of flying things,
Like crumbs of thought and bits of smiles
And specks of dried-up tears,
And dust of dreams that catch and cling
For years and years and years …” —Shel Silverstein (via theprospectofvanishingforever)
Who weaves a strange and wondrous web
Of silken threads and silver strings
To catch all sorts of flying things,
Like crumbs of thought and bits of smiles
And specks of dried-up tears,
And dust of dreams that catch and cling
For years and years and years …” —Shel Silverstein (via theprospectofvanishingforever)
“I didn’t want to sleep. I never wanted to sleep
these days. Then I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want
the leaves turning, the nights turning dark early.” —
these days. Then I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want
the leaves turning, the nights turning dark early.” —
Louise Glück, from “Radium” (The Seven Ages, Ecco, 2001)
“Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.”
—Fernando Pessoa (via bloodisthenewblackk)
