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narcissistapathy · 4 years

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We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain. (via 21jumpstreet-jax)

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narcissistapathy · 4 years

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Gustave Doré illustrations.

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narcissistapathy · 4 years

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the haunted forest

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narcissistapathy · 4 years

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You know what day it is. #manslaughtermonday #stopcatcalling #notyours #neverwas

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narcissistapathy · 4 years

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Seven Deadly Sins: A Playlist

“I am the way into the city of woe, I am the way into eternal pain, I am the way to go among the lost. Justice caused my high architect to move, Divine omnipotence created me, The highest wisdom, and the primal love. Before me there were no created things But those that last forever—as do I. Abandon all hope you who enter here.”

listen

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narcissistapathy · 4 years

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“When she walked through the Rose Garden, its heavy, dove-gray air, dizzy with something unbreathable There was something moist about her, a dare, a rage, an intolerable tenderness.”

— Mary Szybist, “Annunciation in Nabokov and Starr,” in Incarnadine: Poems

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narcissistapathy · 4 years

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“Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.”

— Vladimir Nabokov, Mary

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narcissistapathy · 4 years

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“The summer night was starless and stirless, with distant spasms of silent lightning.”

— Vladimir Nabokov - from Pale Fire

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