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too-ticki are ship’s curtains chintz or tulle 🎀

"i think this is the prettiest world - so long as you dont mind a little dying"

that green energy
rose like a wave
and curled over me, claiming me
in its husky arms
i pushed them away, but i didnt rise
never in my life had i felt so plush,
or so slippery,
or so resplendently empty.
never in my life
had i felt myself so near
that porous line
where my own body was done with
and the roots and the stems and the flowers
began.


eu queria morar nesse poema

what misery to be afraid of death
what wretchedness to believe only in what can be proven

we did not know she was sick, but she has come to the fence, walking like a woman who is balancing a sword inside of her body [...]

a carpenter is hired - a roof repaired, a porch rebuilt. everything that can be fixed.

june, july, august. every day, we hear their laughter. i think of the painting by van gogh, the man in the chair. everything wrong, and nowhere to go. his hands over his eyes.

obsessed with norwegian stave churches and their organically resined pine pillars, reused ship hull ceilings, handmade shingles, stone foundations, death stench from all the rich people buried underneath them and all the narrow doors (so only 1 person could pass at a time and no one would bring the devil in) not to mention the 3d puzzle structure of it!!!!

tentando entender como que ceres e o menor planeta anao do sistema solar e maior asteroide do cinturao sendo q um planeta anao nao e um asteroide e nem um asteroide e um planeta anao

"And, while I waited, have I not leaned close, to see everything?
Have I not been stung as I watched their milling and gleaming, and stung hard?
Have I not been ready always at the iron door,
not knowing to what country it opens to death or to more life?"

eu quando eu era pequena e enfiei a cara dentro da capelinha pra cheirar as flores e uma abelha me picou bem em cima do meu olho

and to tell the truth i dont want to let go of the wrists of idleness, i dont want to sell my life for money, i dont even want to come in out of the rain

sei que meu olhar deve ser o de pessoa primitiva que se entrega toda ao mundo, primitiva como os deuses que só admitem vastamente o bem e o mal e não querem conhecer o bem enovelado como em cabelos no mal, mal que é o bom

stones poem hitting different after i found a big spondylus shell at the river (dont ask) and tried to take it for myself (i fell down the stones got hurt snapped my sandals that actually belonged to a deceased friend and i was so sad i didnt remember to pick up the shell before i left. it stayed at the river

"i hope i would leave them, in the perfect balance of things, in the clear body of the sea" but its a river

to be together is for us to be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company 🥹

that night, after he had kissed his sisters, he thought proper to forget even to shake hands with me, but left the room in silence. i - who, though i had no love, had much friendship for him - was hurt by the marked omission [...] "he is now lingering in the passage expecting you - he will make it up." i have not much pride under such circumstances: i would always rather be happy than dignified; and i ran after him.

that night, after he had kissed his sisters, he thought proper to forget even to shake hands with me, but left the room in silence. i - who, though i had no love, had much friendship for him - was hurt by the marked omission [...] "he is now lingering in the passage expecting you - he will make it up." i have not much pride under such circumstances: i would always rather be happy than dignified; and i ran after him.

what a golden desert this spreading moor! everywhere sunshine. i wished i could live in it and on it. i saw a lizard run over the crag; i saw a bee busy amongst the sweet bilberries. i would fain at the moment have become bee or lizard, that i might find fitting nutriment, permanent shelter here. but i was a human being, and had human beings wants: i must not linger where there was nothing to supply them.

may your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. may you never appeal to heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonised as in that hour left my lips; for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love :(

essa separação deles foi como se a victoria da noiva cadaver não quisesse mais o victor pq ele acidentalmente colocou a aliança no dedo da emily quando ela tava em formato de arvore depois q ela morreu mts anos atras

look wicked, jane: as you know well how to look: coin one of your wild, shy, provoking smiles; tell me you hate me - tease me, vex me; do anything but move me: i would rather be incensed than saddened

CAPITULO 22 DE JANE EYRE 🤲🏡🫀☄️🌅🫂

me sinto meio o mr rochester no sentido q ele fica friendzoning a jane enquanto ta visivelmente apaixonado por ela mas no meu caso nao é romanticamente como ele é apenas amigavelmente msm . serhumanamente.

eu: vou ler este romance classico!

eu no meio do livro: ui e de romance 🤢

DID I FORBID MYSELF TO THINK OF HIM IN ANY OTHER LIGHT THAN AS PAYMASTER? BLASPHEMY AGAINST NATURE!! EVERY TRUE GOOD VIGOROUS FEELING I HAVE GATHERS IMPULSIVELY ROUND HIM. I KNOW I MUST CONCEAL MY SENTIMENTS I MUST SMOTHER HOPE REMEMBER THAT HE CANNOT CARE MUCH FOR ME. FOR WHEN I SAY THAT I AM ONE OF HIS KIND I DO NOT MEAN THAT I HAVE HIS SPELL TO ATTRACT ONLY THAT WE ARE FOREVER SUNDERED AND YET I MUST LOVE HIM

that a greater fool than jane eyre had never breathed the breath of life; that a more fantastic idiot had never surfeited herself on sweet lies and swallowed poison as if it were nectar!!!!!!!!!!

"the lowood constraint still clings to you somewhat; controlling your features, muffling your voice, and restricting your limbs; and you fear in the presence of a man and a brother - or father, or master, or what you will - to smile too gaily, speak too freely, or move too quickly: but in time, i think you will learn to be natural with me, as i find it impossible to be conventional with you"

a blue sea absolved from taint of cloud; the moon ascending it in solemn march; her orb seeming to look up as she left the hill-tops, from behind which she had come, far and farther below her, and aspired to the zenith, midnight dark in its fathomless depth and measureless distance; and for those trembling stars that followed her course; they made my heart tremble, my veins glow when i viewed them.

penso nas caras horrorizadas que a psicologa faria sem querer ouvindo a jane relatar a infancia se ela frequentasse uma