#poet

Knighthood lies above eternity; it doesn’t live off fame, but rather deeds. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#dejan-stojanovic #eternity #fame #knighthood #knights

Sun is a hearthstone, a merry-go-round of extinguished hearthstones. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#hearthstone #literature #literature-quotes #merry-go-round #philosophy

How alive is thought, invisible, yet without thought there is no sight. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#dejan-stojanovic #eyesight #invisible #literature #literature-quotes

Where to start? Everything cracks and shakes, The air trembles with similes, No one world's better than another; the earth moans with metaphors. ↗

— Osip Mandelstam

#poetry #simile #simile

Here the phenomenologist has nothing in common with the literary critic who, as has frequently been noted, judges a work that he could not create and, if we are to believe certain facile condemnations, would not want to create. A literary critic is a reader who is necessarily severe. By turning inside out like a glove an overworked complex that has become debased to the point of being part of the vocabulary of statesmen, we might say that the literary critic and the professor of rhetoric, who know-all and judge-all, readily go in for a simplex of superiority. As for me, being an addict of felicitous reading, I only read and re-read what I like, with a bit of reader's pride mixed in with much enthusiasm. ↗

— Gaston Bachelard

#literary-criticism

This is the city, and I am one of the citizens/Whatever interests the rest interests me ↗

— Walt Whitman

#poetry #new-york-city

A lover goes toward his beloved as enthusiastically as a schoolboy leaving his books, but when he leaves his girlfriend, he feels as miserable as the schoolboy on his way to school. (Act 2, scene 2) ↗

— William Shakespeare

#poetry #love

One should write only those books from whose absence one suffers. In short: the ones you want on your own desk. ↗

— Marina Tsvetaeva

#russian #writing-advice #writing-advice

a woman will tell you every home she has ever inhabited has been broken into starting with her body ↗

— Suheir Hammad

#home

I thought leaving you would be easy, just walking out the door but I keep getting pinned against it with my legs around your waist and it’s like my lips want you like my lungs want air, it’s just what they where born to do so I am sitting at work thinking of you cutting vegetables in my kitchen your hair in my shower drain your fingers on my spine in the morning while we listen to Muddy Waters, I know you will never be the one I call home but the way you talk about poems like marxists talk of revolution it makes me want to keep trying. I’m still looking for reasons to love you. I’m still looking for proof you love me. ↗

— Clementine von Radics

#home