#on love

“Because I love you (you see, I do love you, you dimwit, my love engulfs you the way the sea loves a tiny pebble on its bed—and may I be the pebble with you, heaven permitting) I love the whole world and that includes your left shoulder—no, the right one was first and so I’ll kiss it whenever I want to (and whenever you’re kind enough to pull down your blouse a little)”

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

what-even-is-thiss:

what-even-is-thiss:

what-even-is-thiss:

I reject the idea that kindness and gentleness and love needs to involve a bunch of gentle flowery language

I help you move, I bake you a pie, I sit next to you on purpose. How are you not getting the message yet? What do you want? A love poem? I don’t know how to write those. Here, take this rock. It’s your favorite color.

One of my dad’s close friends reads online newspapers constantly and he always texts my dad articles that he thinks that he would enjoy. Where’s the romanticization of that kind of behavior?

greeksblog:

Love when you’re clearly not suited for each other and love when it’s doomed to fail and love when you feel it end before it begins and love when you both know all of this and love each other till it becomes tragic and love when it’s the only thing you can do before you die and love when there’s no point in doing anything else

sawasawako:

sawasawako:

idc anymore i think we should be a burden to each other

and yes this includes a certain degree of tolerance for emotional burden, all else being equal. my love for you, and loyalty to you, is not dependent on how easy you make it for me to love you. i don’t value you for how little trouble you cause me. i want to learn how to take you for who you are, instead of who i want you to be or who i think you should be

—Jack Gilbert, from The Great Fires

—W. S. Merwin, from Separation

—J. D Mcclatchy, from Late Night Ode

—E. Ethelbert Miller, from Beloved

—Li-Young Lee, from This Room and Everything In It

legobatmen:

[ID: a google doc with the italicized text: “orpheus loves eurydice.” “loves” has a blue underline under it, which is signalling that it should be autocorrected to “and.” End ID.]

literally emo over this autocorrect . like it’s right… there’s no need for “orpheus loves eurydice” as a statement. the evidence is already there: orpheus andeurydice

admirationansweredArabbeautycalledCarlo GozziCHAPTERcharactercharmingCountess of ChampagnecourageCourts of LovecrystallisationdeathdelightDon juandoubtEnglisheverythingexistenceeyesfavourfearfeelingfeminine pridefifteenfiftyfigurefillsfindfinefirefirstfiveflatteringFranceFrenchgirlsgivehabithappinesshearthonourhusbandideasimaginationinfluenceItalianItalyjealousjealousykindladieslessLisiolivedlookLordloverMadameMadame de SévignéMadame Rolandman’smarriageMemoirsmisfortunemistressmodestymonitorial systemmoralNapoleonnaturenevernovelsobjectone’sOvidParispasspassionpassion—loveperhapspiquepleasurepoetpoorprettyPropertiusProvenceRaymondreaderreasonrefinedridiculousRiomsacrificeSalviatiseemsseensocietysoonsoulspeakStendhaltelltenderthingthoughtTibullustiontrueunhappyvanityvirtueWertherwifeWilliamwomanwomenwordyoung

Just a compilation of some old photos of queer couples kissing.

coffeepeople:

I find it endlessly fascinating that most humans just want someone who will get up in the middle of the night to close the windows with them when it starts down pouring. We want someone to dry our dishes after we wash them. We just want another person to do mundane activities with. We want to tell someone how the copy machine broke at work and we want to listen to how Debra is causing office drama again. We just want something so simple. We want human connection and honesty and to be bored with someone else instead of bored alone. 

i am looking through my phone tonight while you wash dishes ten feet away, and i am thinking, as i have thought so often lately, about loss. you poke fun at me for avoiding the word death: “if something happens,” i say. but something has happened. in the years i’ve loved you i’ve been a thousand changing faces, and i hope to be a thousand more. i’ve been a thousand versions of myself, and you a thousand versions of yours. and i’ve loved each and every one because that is what we do. we finish sentences and edit essays and each hold the most breakable pieces of the other inside the armor of ourselves.

each day brings little deaths and rebirths, losses and gains, but the constant has been you. your kindness and laughter; my hand on the nape of your neck the way you like to be comforted. our sweat and tears mingling the way these things do. what separates us from the day we met? nine years, two rings, three states, four degrees. tens of thousands of miles traveled, years lived apart. the loss of my father. mountains and valleys and sertraline prescriptions. and in all that space, somehow our hearts only managed to grow closer.

happy birthday, love.

gentlekirk:

“You know, love doesn’t mean ‘I never want you to change’. But I don’t think it means ‘I don’t care if you change’ either. So I suppose it might mean, ‘I believe that you’ll always be the person I adore’. A declaration of faith, perhaps.”

— Sayaka Saeki, やがて君になる (Bloom into You). (via freckled-lili)

anaysa:

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

honey-sipping-muse:

Rhiannon McGavin

i miss you so much it hurts

w.s. merwin separation(via@lilllium) \ renee stout \ lorde hard feelings (via@lyricsilove) \ ramon haindl \ anna akhmatova selected poems of anna akhmatova (via@propertiesofjoy)

kofi

When raindrops cease to wet the ground

And when fire freezes at the sight of snow

When the ocean becomes sweet,

As the breeze of wind lulls its waves,

And when the shadows devour the sun,

As the moon quits mirroring its light.

When Friday nights become Monday mornings,

When my tattoo of your name disappears into a void,

Which only your touch can fill.

And when the thought of your lips pressed on mine,

Stops making me feel like cherry wine

That’s when I’ll stop loving you.

- FP

saintsebastiensbf:

mitski, strawberry blond / e.c., love freely / chen chen, when i grow up i want to be a list of further possibilities / hanya yanagihara, a little life / interview with cohen by kris kirk, poetry commotion, June 18, 1988 / gabriela mistral, from a letter to doris dana

softgrlfriend:

as hurt as I am!!!! I want to believe no love of mine was ever wasted

stuckinapril:

maybe true love is just feeling like you’re completely yourself around somebody else

luthienne:

Fyodor Dostoevsky,The Brothers Karamazov (tr. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky)

[Text ID: Never be frightened at your own faintheartedness in attaining love, and meanwhile do not even be very frightened by your own bad acts. I am sorry that I cannot say anything more comforting, for active love is a harsh and fearful thing compared with love in dreams. Love in dreams thirsts for immediate action, quickly performed, and with everyone watching. Indeed, it will go as far as the giving even of one’s life, provided it does not take long but is soon over, as on stage, and everyone is looking on and praising. Whereas active love is labor and perseverance, and for some people, perhaps, a whole science.]