I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
— Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets (via tinyblue)
The closeness of reality and the distance of myth, because if there is no distance you aren’t amazed, and if there is no closeness you aren’t moved.
— Peter Brook (via fourteenth)
Everyone is someone’s devil.
— Matthew Hicks, Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend  (via bodyfluids)
Death is a Dialogue between
The Spirit and the Dust.
— Emily Dickinson, from “[976]” (via proustitute)
Desire doubled is love and love doubled is madness.
— Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband (via proustitute)
Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.
— Brian Eno, A Year With Swollen Appendices (via volumexii)
Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly, a fit emblem of the human soul, for those whose cast of mind leads them to seek such emblems. No, the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.
— Pat Barker, Regeneration (via commovente)