Tudo Vrio. Temporrio. Efmero.

“Tudo é vário. Temporário. Efêmero.”

— Chico Buarque (via la-femme-terrible)

“If I were to pray at this moment, I don’t think I would say anything at all. I would just get down and lightly kiss the earth. That’s the least I can do.”

— James Wright, from a letter to Anne Sexton c. July 1960 (via la-femme-terrible)

“I have read so many books… And yet, like most autodidacts, I am never quite sure of what I have gained from them. There are days when I feel I have been able to grasp all there is to know in one single gaze, as if invisible branches suddenly spring out of nowhere, weaving together all the disparate strands of my reading — and then suddenly the meaning escapes, the essence evaporates, and no matter how often I reread the same lines, they seem to flee ever further with each subsequent reading, and I see myself as some mad old fool who thinks her stomach is full because she’s been attentively reading the menu.”

— The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery (translation: Alison Anderson)

Maria by Callas (2017)

“There is a language that I speak or that speaks (to) me in all tongues. A language at once unique and universal that resounds in each national tongue when a poet speaks in it. In each tongue, there flows milk and honey. and this language I know, I don’t need to enter it, it surges from me, it flows, it is the milk of love, the honey of my unconscious. the language that women speak when no one is there to correct them.”

— Hélène Cixous, Coming to Writing, from Coming to Writing and Other Essays (via intraducibile)

Sandra Cisneros, from My Wicked Wicked Ways: Poems; “Moon In Hydra,”