"Kruchina was an archaic word for grief, found mostly in the old songs and poems. Kruchina grief was not regular sadness or disappointment with everyday troubles, but rather the existential sorrow about a woman’s lot that never goes away, not even at the happiest of moments."

Kseniya Melnik, Snow in May (via ifveniceissinking)

(via ghost-lilies)

"…how I
still, sometimes,
crave understanding."

Mary Oliver, from Long Life: Essays And Other Writings (via violentwavesofemotion)

"And all her heart broke stiff in leafy flame
That neither rose nor fell, but stood aghast;
And she, rooted in Time’s slow agony,
Stirred dully, hard-edged laurel, in the past;
And, like a cloud of silence or a name,
The god withdrew into Eternity."

from “Apollo and Daphne,” Yvor Winters (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

(Source: blutetragen, via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

"My voice snagged on phantom nails in my throat."

Francesca Lia Block, The Elementals  (via mirroir)

(Source: theantipoet, via lifeinpoetry)

"Now I have expanded my life to accommodate my thoughts about you, and there is hardly a quarter of an hour of my waking time when I haven’t thought about you, and many quarter-hours when I do nothing else."

Franz Kafka, “Letters to Felice” (via petrichour)

(Source: freaking3eek, via petrichour)

"I urge you to please notice when you are happy."

Kurt Vonnegut (via laviesepoursuit)

(via workman)