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derangedrhythms · 3 days
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Do you believe in ghosts? The creak on the stair, the chill in the room, a strange scent, a wavering light in the window. The ancient house, the walled-up wing, drifting fog, broken battlements, deep darkness, silent desolation, the empty tomb and its rotting shroud, the damp bed too soft to the touch. The sudden presence of a presence.
Jeanette Winterson, from ‘Night Side of the River’
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derangedrhythms · 1 month
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Stay for me there! I will not fail To meet thee in that hollow vale.
[Exequy on the death of his wife, by Henry King, Bishop of Chichester]
Epigraph, 'The Assignation' by Edgar Allan Poe
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derangedrhythms · 1 month
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FEBRUARY 22. Life is a pitiful thing.
Mary MacLane, from 'I Await the Devil's Coming'
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derangedrhythms · 2 months
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To get up in the morning, wash and then wait for some unforeseen variety of dread or depression.
E. M. Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born, tr. Richard Howard
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derangedrhythms · 2 months
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. . . with most people, I prefer that they think of me as normal or as normal as possible . . .
Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait in Letters ⁠— W. D. Snodgrass, 1st February 1959
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derangedrhythms · 2 months
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[...] only the Sinister could soothe me [...]
E. M. Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born, tr. Richard Howard
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derangedrhythms · 2 months
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This great terrible silence was my love.
Robert Desnos, from Essential Poems & Writings; "Ebony Life,"
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derangedrhythms · 2 months
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Charles Bukowksi, Love is a Dog from Hell: Poems 1974-1977; from 'texan'
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derangedrhythms · 2 months
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The first snow of the new year lifted my burdensome thoughts.
Louise Erdrich, from 'The Sentence'
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derangedrhythms · 2 months
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Girl, aging girl, is haunted by own nothingness [...]
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath ⁠— 26th January 1958
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derangedrhythms · 2 months
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January dry, hard, glittering, cold, and the wicked naked beauty of the scraped blue skies [...]
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath ⁠— 26th January 1953
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derangedrhythms · 3 months
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[…] I’ve got nature & art & poetry, & if that isn’t enough, what is?
Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh ⁠— Theo van Gogh - January 1874, tr. Arnold Pomerans
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derangedrhythms · 3 months
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(I’m the crazy one who thinks that words reach people)
Anne Sexton, from ‘A Self-Portrait in Letters’ ⁠— W. D. Snodgrass, 11th January 1959
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derangedrhythms · 3 months
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I am so erotic and lyrical.
Sylvia Plath, The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume I: 1940–1956 — Gordon Lameyer, 9th January 1955
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derangedrhythms · 3 months
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What can I do with this want.
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath — 3rd January 1959
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derangedrhythms · 3 months
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Sylvia Plath, Collected Poems; from ‘Winter Landscape, with Rooks’
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derangedrhythms · 3 months
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Peace of the soul. Lonely winter evening,
Georg Trakl, Surrender to Night: Collected Poems of Georg Trakl: Sebastian in Dream; from 'Sebastian in Dream', tr. Will Stone
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