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callmeancientsoul · 3 months
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Les chambres rouges (Pascal Plante, 2023)
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callmeancientsoul · 3 months
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“When you see that trading is done, not by consent, but by compulsion–when you see that in order to produce, you need to obtain permission from men who produce nothing–when you see that money is flowing to those who deal, not in goods, but in favors–when you see that men get richer by graft and by pull than by work, and your laws don’t protect you against them, but protect them against you–when you see corruption being rewarded and honesty becoming a self-sacrifice–you may know that your society is doomed.”
— Ayn Rand 
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callmeancientsoul · 3 months
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“The whole world is a series of miracles, but we’re so used to them we call them ordinary things.”
— Hans Christian Andersen
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callmeancientsoul · 3 months
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“To move, to breathe, to fly, to float, to gain all while you give, to roam the roads of lands remote, to travel is to live.”
— Hans Christian Andersen
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callmeancientsoul · 3 months
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“We tell ourselves stories in order to live […] We interpret what we see, select the most workable of multiple choices. We live entirely … by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the ‘ideas’ with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.”
— Joan Didion, The White Album
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callmeancientsoul · 3 months
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“Now they want to make a film For anyone lacking the ability To imagine the body, head in oven, Orphaning children […] they think I should give them my mother’s words To fill the mouth of their monster, Their Sylvia Suicide Doll”
— Frieda Hughes, Sylvia Plath - Wikipedia, http://www.bloodaxebooks.com/articles.asp?id=62
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callmeancientsoul · 3 months
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“She used every emotional experience as if it were a scrap of material that could be pieces together to make a wonderful dress; she wasted nothing of what she felt, and when in control of those tumultuous feelings she was able to focus and direct her incredible poetic energy to great effect.”
Frieda Hughes, on her mother, Sylvia Plath, in the Foreword to the 2004 restored edition of Ariel (via kaffee-kuchen)
This is a great description of what I believe Sylvia used in making her poetry. She didn’t waste any though or emotion, she put it all on paper and made a story of it. Her poems reflect on people all over the world and help readers understand her as a poet and even understand themselves more as a person themselves. 
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callmeancientsoul · 3 months
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“I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel - drained. It is a blank state of mind and soul I cannot describe to you as I think it would not make any difference. Also it is a very private feeling I have - that of melting into a perpetual nervous breakdown. I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly. No answers, darling. At all.”
— Anne Sexton
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callmeancientsoul · 3 months
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You said something very true the other day: that for us, nudity begins with the face.
Simone de Beauvoir, The Mandarins
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callmeancientsoul · 4 months
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“Io sono qui perché ho scritto poesie, un prodotto assolutamente inutile, ma quasi mai nocivo.”
— - Eugenio Montale
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callmeancientsoul · 4 months
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[…] women are made to assume an artificial character, taught from their infancy that beauty is a woman's sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adore its prison.
From "A Vindication of the Rights of Woman" by Mary Wollstonecraft.
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callmeancientsoul · 4 months
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She is at a crossroads: a child's violent will to survive lodged in her chest where her heart should be, but an utter indifference along with it.
Lidia Yuknavitch, The Small Backs of Children.
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callmeancientsoul · 4 months
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Emptiness is all, it raised me as I am
Zoltán Böszörményi, from "The Dust of My Existence."
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callmeancientsoul · 4 months
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My soul bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly, swallows me whole.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
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callmeancientsoul · 4 months
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Sofia soon wrote her sister Tatyana Kuzminskiy about the incident:
You remember, at Bibikov’s, Anna Stepanovna? Well, she got so jealous that Aleksandr Nikolaevich got angry and quarreled with her, and the consequence of which was that Anna Stepanovna left him altogether and went to Tula. She gave her driver a letter to Bibikov. In the letter it was written: «You are my killer. If you want to see me, you can view my body on the rails at Yasenki.»What a story!
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callmeancientsoul · 4 months
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callmeancientsoul · 4 months
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“The act of painting is about one heart telling another heart where he found salvation.”
— Francisco Goya
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