Rachel P

“Who will be lost in the story we tell ourselves? Who will be lost in ourselves? A story, after all, is a kind of swallowing. To open a mouth, in speech, is to leave only the bones, which remain untold.”
― Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

“Because gunshots, lies, and oxtail—or whatever you want to call your god—should say Yes over and over, in cycles, in spirals, with no other reason but to hear itself exist. Because love, at its best, repeats itself.”
― Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

“poor fool,
poor forked branch
of applewood, you will feel all your bones break
over the holy waters you will never drink.”
― Galway Kinnell, The Book Of Nightmares: A Landmark Visionary Poem in Ten Parts and American Poetry Masterpiece

“I missed her so much that I wanted to build a hundred-foot memorial to her with my bare hands. I wanted to see her sitting in a vast stone chair in Hyde Park, enjoying her view. Everybody passing could comprehend how much I miss her. How physical my missing is. I miss her so much it is a vast golden prince, a concert hall, a thousand trees, a lake, nine thousand buses, a million cars, twenty million birds and more. The whole city is my missing her. Eugh,”
― Max Porter, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers