glorià

theoptia:

Sophokles, from Elektra; translated by Anne Carson in An Oresteia

Text ID: ELEKTRA: All we have is impossible. / To live or die with you—it comes to the / same thing for me anyway. / Without you what am I?

violentwavesofemotion:

“Eyes full of surprise and wonder, full of reflections like the river. Hungry eyes, avid, naked.”

— Anaïs Nin, from “Delta Of Venus,” originally published c. August 1977

slightskins:

“Changeable, iridescent; a sea nymph of some old Grecian temple,”

— Amy Lowell, from “The Garden by Moonlight,” written c. September 1919
(via kaafka)

oldfarmhouse:

“And the fragrance, and the honey, and of course the sun, the purely pure sun, shining, all the while, over all of us.”

— Mary Oliver, from New and Selected Poems, Vol. Two
(via luthienne)

oh-violette:

“A witch is just a girl who knows her mind.”

— Catherynne M. Valente, from “The Bread We Eat in Dreams,” The Bread We Eat in Dreams (via virgoassbitch)

thestrawberrynight:

i wanna become a constellation so that people look at me late at night and think about something beautiful

sons-of-ilios:

just sorta wish i was lying in an olive grove on a mountainside in the peloponnese in the middle of summer listening to cicadas buzzing all around wondering how many ancient relics there are buried directly beneath me

helllandhoney:

“I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow.”

— Hélène Cixous, from “The Love of the Wolf” (via soracities)

angelicgays:

“In his tent, Achilles grieved with his whole being and the gods saw he was a man already dead, a victim of the part that loved, the part that was mortal.”

— Louise Glück, excerpt of The Triumph of Achilles (via antigonick)

herartificialworld:

All I want is a secret garden where I can host themed dinner parties and hang fairy lights from the trees, is that really too much to ask?