Chris J. Rice

The world is full of stories, and from time to time they permit themselves to be told.
Old Cherokee Saying

Paula Modersohn-Becker (February 8, 1876 – November 21, 1907)
The perils of fruit.

Paula Modersohn-Becker (February 8, 1876 – November 21, 1907)

The perils of fruit.

Le monde est grand, mais en nous
Il est profonde comme la mer.

The world is large, but in us
it is as deep as the sea.

—Rainer Maria Rilke, opening quote to Gaston Bachelard’s Intimate Immensity, in The Poetics of Space  (via astrowomyn)

(Source: rozenstruikjes, via astrowomyn)

It is fatal to be a man or woman pure and simple; one must be woman-manly or man-womanly. … Some marriage of opposites has to be consummated.

—― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Be critical. Women have the right to say: this is surface, this falsifies reality, this degrades.

Tillie Olsen

Silences: Classical Essays on the Art of Creating

tasnimsmentalroadtrip:

All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary

(via astrowomyn)

I’m searching, I’m searching. I’m trying to understand. Trying to give what I’ve lived to somebody else and I don’t know to whom, but I don’t want to keep what I lived. I don’t know what to do with what I lived, I’m afraid of that profound disorder. I don’t trust what happened to me.

—The PASSION according to G. H.
Clarice Lispector

for the love of oceans, move from your own heart and gut! all the "they’s" out there will steer you right off the god damn road if you let them…YOU ALREADY ARE THE BEAUTIFUL KNOWLEDGE. advice is nice but jeeeeeeez. don’t let them take you on some dumb RIDE…promise? i mean it! swear it! collaboration is as far as any "other" voice gets in for me. if it isn’t collaboration, it’s someone trying to jack your car.

— Lidia Yuknavitch

Yet the noble despair of the poets
Is nothing of the sort; it is silly
To refuse the tasks of time
And, overlooking our lives,
Cry – “Miserable wicked me,
How interesting I am.”
We would rather be ruined than changed,
We would rather die in dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.

—From
W.H. Auden’s
The Age of Anxiety