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“We call them dumb animals, and so they are, for they cannot tell us how they feel, but they do not suffer less because they have no words.”
― Black Beauty
― Black Beauty
“If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place.”
― Letters to a Young Poet
― Letters to a Young Poet
“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”
―
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“You once told me that the human eye is god's loneliest creation. How so much of the world passes through the pupil and still it holds nothing. The eye, alone in its socket, doesn't even know there's another one, just like it, an inch away, just as hungry, as empty.”
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
― On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
“Ecstasy that must look pretty from inside—to core not just an apple but the entire orchard, the family, even the dog. Leave the shells to the crows. A field of red lampshades in the dark Garden of Myiasis.
This is no cultivated haven. This is the earth riddled with a brother. The furrows are mountains. Waves of sand and we are ships wrecked. What’s left of a fleet of one hundred shadows shattered and bleached. A crop gone to sticks. The honeysuckle sags with bright sour powder. We have followed the flames, followed him here, where all the black birds in the world have fallen like a shotgun blast to the faded ground. The vines have hardened to worms baking in the desert heat. We are at the gate, shaking the gate, climbing the gate, clanging our cups against the gate.
This is no garden. This is my brother and I need a shovel to love him.”
― When My Brother Was an Aztec
This is no cultivated haven. This is the earth riddled with a brother. The furrows are mountains. Waves of sand and we are ships wrecked. What’s left of a fleet of one hundred shadows shattered and bleached. A crop gone to sticks. The honeysuckle sags with bright sour powder. We have followed the flames, followed him here, where all the black birds in the world have fallen like a shotgun blast to the faded ground. The vines have hardened to worms baking in the desert heat. We are at the gate, shaking the gate, climbing the gate, clanging our cups against the gate.
This is no garden. This is my brother and I need a shovel to love him.”
― When My Brother Was an Aztec
V’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at V’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
2,147 books
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98 friends
1,320 books
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38 friends
486 books
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66 friends
37 books
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18 friends
347 books
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9 friends
220 books
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8 friends
524 books
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52 friends
605 books
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98 friends
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Favorite Genres
Classics, Crime, Fiction, Graphic novels, Horror, Non-fiction, Psychology, Romance, Suspense, and Thriller
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