you explain the roundness of the earth; the sharpened tip of the compass needle, always precise, marking contours, lines, limits. the shadow and truth of your body in the landscape: appearances and disappearances when you try to comprehend the possible across great distances, the symmetry, forgetfulness, incarnation in other beings: animals, plants, and later, men once again. you taught me all this, but i’m not a map and i hold still. i abandon my shoes and my dread of nearing the end: the oar descends toward the deep, it is september. we don’t move. i keep still to be different, that’s why… Reina María Rodríguez (tr. Joel Brouwer and Jessica Stephenson), from Memory of Water (via weissewiese)

(Source: miscfisc, via weissewiese)

16 notes
I love old things. Modern things are so cold. I need things that have lived. Barbara Hulanicki of Biba (via 13thmoon)

(via thesleepingfawn)

11,390 notes
My wants are simple: a job that I like and a guy whom I love. Emily Giffin, Something Borrowed (via raindancinq)

(Source: simply-quotes, via germanytogermany)

103,293 notes