Juntralai

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Uses of the Eroti...
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Ishmael
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"weird western male takes i’m ngl" Jul 19, 2025 04:18PM

 
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Virginia Woolf
“I think sometimes I am not a woman, but the light that falls on this gate, on this ground. I am the seasons, I think sometimes, January, May, November; the mud, the mist, the dawn.”
Virginia Woolf, The Waves

Virginia Woolf
“I snatched the telephone and the buzz, buzz, buzz of its stupid voice in your empty room battered my heart down, when the door opened and there you stood. That was the most perfect of our meetings. But these meetings, these partings, finally destroy us.”
Virginia Woolf

John  Williams
“The love of literature, of language, of the mystery of the mind and heart showing themselves in the minute, strange, and unexpected combinations of letters and words, in the blackest and coldest print—the love which he had hidden as if it were illicit and dangerous, he began to display, tentatively at first, and then boldly, and then proudly.”
John Williams, Stoner

Virginia Woolf
“I leap like one of those flames that run between the cracks of the earth; I move; I dance; I never cease to move and to dance. I move like the leaf that moved in the hedge as a child and frightened me. I dance over these streaked, these impersonal, distempered walls with their yellow skirting as firelight dances over teapots.”
Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf
“You see the beetle too carrying off a leaf on its back. It runs this way, then that way, so that even your desire while you watch the beetle, to possess one single thing (it is Louis now) must waver, like the light in and out of the beech leaves; and the words, moving darkly, in the depths of your mind will break up this knot of hardness, screwed in your pocket-handkerchief.”
Virginia Woolf
tags: desire

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