#poetic

Love encompasses so much, reaches so far, and heals so deeply, that any attempt to describe it, no matter how poetic, only dilutes it. ↗

— Steve Maraboli

#heals #love #poetic #relationships #soul-mates

The poetic act consists of suddenly seeing that an idea splits up into a number of equal motifs and of grouping them; they rhyme. ↗

— Stephane Mallarme

#consists #equal #grouping #idea #into

I wanted so badly to tell him, but something about that entire night seemed so beautiful, so bizarre, that I didn't trust it with my secrets. ↗

— Lauren DeStefano

#beauty

The genuine artist, Harris is saying, finds reality in a point of identity between subject and object, a point at which the created world and the world that is really there become the same thing. [p.211] ↗

— Northrop Frye

#literary-theory #poetics #imagination

I feel unburdened, and after a while I start to imagine that the divan is a boat moving over the ocean. Sunken cities play music beneath the waves. The ghosts are stirring. ↗

— Lauren DeStefano

#imagination

It is true that I can trip over anything and nothing – a speck of dust, a patch of sunlight, an idea. I move through life like a person with one eye, through a landscape that looks flat, but is really tricked out with hidden depths and shallows. It didn’t use to be so, but no matter. I navigate the world well enough in my own way. ↗

— Franny Billingsley

#life

...she could not think of what had happened to her that day, or of what might happen that night. Instead, she watched the lamplighters move along the avenues even as their celestial counterparts set the stars alight in the sky. The rain had washed the city clean, and the air was a confection of clematis and violets and peony. Music and light spilled out of so many grand houses that the two seemed at once ubiquitous and united, as if to play a note was to send forth a ray of illumination, and a quartet was enough to set the grandest halls aglitter. ↗

— Galen Beckett

#music

Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark. ↗

— Lucy Christopher

#poetic-fiction #nature

Descobri a minha estrela. Ela é bela e graciosa. Elegante e divina. O meu riso no inverno. Ela é corajosa e forte. Arrojada e tentadora. Diferente de qualquer outra no universo e não posso tocar-lhe. Nem me atrevo a tentar. ↗

— Sherrilyn Kenyon

#romantic #romantic

I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another til I drop. ↗

— Jack Kerouac

#beatnik #poetic #poetry #prose #confusion