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“I met a girl
who holds me
like she is fighting
for me
in her sleep.
If you ever decide to age,
love, invite me.
I’ll retire my bones
to make you tea,
and read you poetry.”
― Jasmine Mans, Black Girl, Call Home

“You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. Only the sun has come this close, only the sun.”
― Shauna Barbosa, Cape Verdean Blues

“Perhaps he makes a choice. He chooses the memory of her. That’s why he turns. He doesn’t make the lover’s choice, but the poet’s.”
― Céline Sciamma, Portrait of a Lady on Fire

“The love we feel for the splendor of the heavens, the plains, the sea, and the mountains, for the silence of nature which is borne in upon us by thousands of tiny sounds, for the breath of the winds or the warmth of the sun, this love of which every human being has at least an inkling, is an incomplete, painful love, because it is felt for things incapable of responding, that is to say for matter. Men want to turn this same love toward a being who is like themselves and capable of answering to their love, of saying yes, of surrendering...
The longing to love the beauty of the world in a human being is essentially the longing for the Incarnation.”
― Simone Weil, Waiting for God