kinga > kinga's Quotes

“I dreamt of you last night - as if I was playing the piano and you were turning the pages for me.”
― Vladimir Nabokov

“I sleep. I dream. I make up things that I would never say. I say them very quietly.”
― Richard Siken

“She’s the only divine thing he’s ever believed in. The only creature in this vast, cruel land who could kill him. And sometimes, in his loveliest dreams, he imagines she does.”
― R.F. Kuang, The Drowning Faith

“Insomnia is like spring that way—surprising
and many petaled”
― Natalie Díaz, Postcolonial Love Poem

“Who is the true god?" ... She's the only divine thing he's ever believed in.”
― R.F. Kuang, The Drowning Faith

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”
― richard siken

“He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.”
― Richard Siken

“To my daughter I will say, when the men come, set yourself on fire.”
― Warsan Shire, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth

“I want to make love, but my hair smells of war and running and running.”
― Warsan Shire, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth

“Grandfather’s Hands
 
 
 
 
 
 
Your grandfather’s hands were brown.
Your grandmother kissed each knuckle,
 
circled an island into his palm
and told him which parts they would share,
which part they would leave alone.
 
She wet a finger to draw where the ocean would be
on his wrist, kissed him there,
named the ocean after herself.
 
Your grandfather’s hands were slow but urgent.
Your grandmother dreamt them,
 
a clockwork of fingers finding places to own–
under the tongue, collarbone, bottom lip,
arch of foot.
 
Your grandmother names his fingers after seasons–
index finger, a wave of heat,
middle finger, rainfall.
 
Some nights his thumb is the moon
nestled just under her rib.

“Your grandparents often found themselves
in dark rooms, mapping out
each other’s bodies,
 
claiming whole countries
with their mouths.”
― Warsan Shire, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth

“Why don't you ever use your strength on me?" she said.
Because love means renouncing strength," said Franz softly.”
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

“And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself?”
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

“she loved to walk down the street with a book under her arm. It had the same significance for her as an elegant cane for the dandy a century ago. It differentiated her from others.”
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

“In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine.”
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

“It's delicious. But why is Malay chili sweet?
It helps the musicians write better love songs.”
― Amanda Lee Koe, Ministry of Moral Panic

“Nie na takie loty krojono nam skrzydła.”
― Jarosław Borszewicz, Mroki

“Przyjedź!
Wszędzie tam, gdzie Cię nie ma jest mi Ciebie za dużo.”
― Jarosław Borszewicz, Mroki

“odezwij się czasem
ciekawy jestem
gdzie i z kim teraz
umierasz”
― Jarosław Borszewicz, Zezowaty duet

“The deaths—tiny ones, false ones, real ones—we undertake in the name of love are the closest that we ever come to greatness.”
― Amanda Lee Koe, Ministry of Moral Panic

“There is no such thing in the world, as I cannot live without you; you cannot live without me. The earth spins. Time passes. Rice is eaten. What is there to disprove?”
― Amanda Lee Koe, Ministry of Moral Panic

“How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it's some kind of murder?”
― Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

“I wanted to explain myself to myself in an understandable way. I gave shape to my fears and made excuses. I varied my velocities, watched myselves sleep. Something's not right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it-- living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of black glass. If I fell through the floor I would keep falling.
The enormity of my desire disgusts me.”
― Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

“I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard
to make it love.”
― Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

“Sometimes, at night, in bed, before I fall asleep, I think about a poem I might write, someday, about my heart, says the heart.”
― Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

“I cut off my head and threw it in the sky. It turned into birds. I called it thinking.”
― Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

“Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.”
― Richard Siken, Crush

“Moonlight making crosses
on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.”
― Richard Siken, Crush

“Szkoda, że Cię tu nie ma. Zamieszkałem w punkcie,
z którego mam za darmo rozległe widoki:
gdziekolwiek stanąć na wystygłym gruncie
tej przypłaszczonej kropki, zawsze ponad głową
ta sama mroźna próżnia
milczy swą nałogową
odpowiedź. Klimat znośny, chociaż bywa różnie.
Powietrze lepsze pewnie niż gdzie indziej.
Są urozmaicenia: klucz żurawi, cienie
palm i wieżowców, grzmot, bufiasty obłok.
Ale dosyć już o mnie. Powiedz, co u Ciebie
słychać, co można widzieć,
gdy się jest Tobą.

Szkoda, że Cię tu nie ma. Zawarłem się w chwili
dumnej, że się rozrasta w nowotwór epoki;
choć jak ją nazwą, co będą mówili
o niej ci, co przewyższą nas o grubą warstwę
geologiczną stojąc
na naszym próchnie, łgarstwie,
niezniszczalnym plastiku, doskonaląc swoją
własną mieszankę śmiecia i rozpaczy
nie wiem. Jak zgniatacz złomu, sekunda ubija
kolejny stopień, rosnący pod stopą.
Ale dosyć już o mnie. Mów jak Tobie mija
czas-i czy czas coś znaczy,
gdy się jest Tobą.

Szkoda, że Cię tu nie ma. Zagłębiam się w ciele,
w którym zaszyfrowane są tajne wyroki
śmierci lub dożywocia-co niewiele
różni się jedno z drugim w grząskim gruncie rzeczy,
a jednak ta lektura
wciąga mnie, niedorzeczny
kryminał krwi i grozy, powieść rzeka, która
swój mętny finał poznać mi pozwoli
dopiero, gdy i tak nie będę w stanie unieść
zamkniętych ciepłą dłonią zimnych powiek.
Ale dosyć już o mnie. Mów jak Ty się czujesz
z moim bólem-jak boli
Ciebie Twój człowiek.”
― Stanisław Barańczak, Widokówka z tego świata i inne rymy z lat 1986–1988

“Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra
trafitto da un raggio di sole:
ed e subito sera.

(Everyone stands along on the heart of the earth transfixed by a sun ray:
and suddenly it is evening.)”
― Salvatore Quasimodo

“Wszystko, co się wydarzyło między mną a matką, wydarzyło się na wieczność, teraz już to wiem. Choć to zdanie topi się we własnej głębi.”
― Mira Marcinów, Bezmatek