March 2012
3 tags
1 tag
2 tags
My heart skips a beat every time Jenny Lewis says “my band”.
2 tags
1 tag
acandleandawick:
laura marling / to be a woman...
1 tag
1 tag
2 tags
2 tags
For the third time this summer, though no other summer, I went to London on Monday, paid 5/- for a plate of ham, & said goodbye to Katherine. I had my euphemism at parting; about coming again before she goes; but it is useless to extend these farewell visits. They have something crowded & unnaturally calm too about them, & after all, visits can’t do away with the fact that she...
2 tags
1 tag
2 tags
“I want - I want - I want - was all that she could think about - but just what...”
– Carson McCullers, The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter (via libraryland)
1 tag
(via ehickery)
Laura Marling / Blackberry Stone
1 tag
2 tags
lastlifeinuniverse:
What you do is you hide your deep need to hide, and you do this out of the need to appear to other people as if you have the strength not to care how you appear to others. You stick your hideous face right in there into the wine-tasting crowd’s visual meatgrinder, you smile so wide it hurts and put out your hand and are extra gregarious and outgoing and exert yourself to...
3 tags
6 tags
Thoby went to open the door; in came Sydney-Turner; in came Bell; in came Strachey.
They came in hesitatingly, self-effacingly, and folded themselves up quietly in the corners of sofas. For a long time they said nothing. None of our old conversational openings seemed to do. Vanessa and Thoby and Clive, if Clive were there - for Clive was always ready to sacrifice himself in the cause of talk -...
1 tag
1 tag
1 tag
2 tags
1 tag
“That was the strange thing, that one did not know where one was going, or what...”
– Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out (via awritersruminations)
2 tags
It is a constant idea of mine; that behind the cotton wool is hidden a pattern; that we - I mean all human beings - are connected with this; that the whole world is a work art; that we are parts of the work of art. Hamlet or a Beethoven quartet is the truth about this vast mass that we call the world. But there is no Shakespeare, there is no Beethoven; certainly and emphatically there is no God;...
1 tag
3 tags
oh Rosa.
Spoke of love like hunger
1 tag
2 tags
1 tag
2 tags
1 tag
2 tags
3 tags
2 tags
1 tag
3 tags
He was fond of sending telegrams which began “My darling mother” and went on to say that he would be dining out. (I copied this style of his, I regret to say, with disastrous results on one celebrated occasion. “She is an angel” I wired, on hearing that Flora Russell had accepted him, and signed my nickname ‘Goat.’ “She is an aged Goat” was the...
1 tag
2 tags
The Beast / Laura Marling
He lies, he lies so...
3 tags
1 tag
1 tag
3 tags
There was a great day when my Cornish lugger sailed perfectly to the middle of the pond and with my eyes upon it, amazed, sank suddenly; “Did you see that?” my father cried, coming striding towards me. We had both seen it and both were amazed. To make the wonder complete, many weeks later in the spring, I was walking by the pond and a man in a flat-boat was dredging the pond of...
4 tags
2 tags
3 tags
Choose your last words
2 tags
Northern Lights / St. Vincent
Convinced it was...
3 tags
Lay me down and comfort me