Poetry Is What Helps Me Remember That Even In My Fragments, I Am Whole.

Jihyun Yun, from Some Are Always Hungry; “The Leaving Season”

[Text ID: “It’s strange / to know this world I loved, / loves me best / dismembered.”]

“Wait for someone who love you differently. One who can see the fire in your soul, and the child in your laugh, and the ocean in your heart.”

— JmStorm

“You often feel tired, not because you’ve done too much, but because you’ve done too little of what sparks a light in you.”

— Unknown

― Virginia Woolf, A Writer's Diary

[ text ID: Yes, I deserve a spring–I owe nobody nothing. ]

Brightstar; John Keats

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

Monet painting details.

Mary Oliver

♡ valkrye131 ♡

Linda Pastan, from Waiting for My Life: Poems; "What We Want"

[Text ID: "and in the morning / our arms ache. / We don't remember the dream, / but the dream remembers us."]