Denisa Cîrstea

“Poţi să ascunzi o crimă folosind cuvinte. Dar pictura este ca o fereastră cu vedere directă până în străfundul inimii tale. Tu nu ai făcut aici decât să construieşti o mulţime de ferestruici spre o inimă plină de tablourile altor pictori la modă.”
― John Fowles, The Collector

“Pobre amor el que de pensamiento se alimenta.”
― Julio Cortázar, Hopscotch

“fit in here, in my palm, in my shadow, don’t be bigger than my idea of you, don’t be more beautiful than i can accept, don’t be more human than i am willing to allow you to be and be quiet, you’re too loud, even your un-belonging is loud. quiet your dreams, your voice, your hair, quiet your skin, quiet your displacement, quiet your longing, your colour, quiet your walk, your eyes. who said you could look at me like that? who said you could exist without permission? why are you even here? why aren’t you shrinking? i think of you often. you vibrate. you walk into a room and the temperature changes. i lean in and almost recognise you as human. but, no. we can’t have that.”
― Warsan Shire

“The claim that every man kills the thing he loves seemed to him a wild guess compared with the near certainty of a man turning into the thing he hates.”
― Edward St Aubyn