antigonick
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antigonick: “This is the condition called ekstasis, literally “standing outside oneself”, a condition regarded by the Greeks as typical of mad persons, geniuses and lovers, and ascribed to poets by Aristotle.” — Anne Carson, “Decreation, How
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rnyfh:Antigonick (Sophokles) trans. Anne Carson
mashamorevna: “No grave can hold my body down— I’ll crawl home to her.” — Hozier, excerpt of “Work Song”, from Hozier (via antigonick)
antigonick: Edinburgh souvenirs—autumn and winter were the loveliest there (I gush a lot about this elsewhere).
antigonick: “So fairy tales, folk tales, stories from the oral tradition, are all of them the most vital connection we have with the imaginations of the ordinary men and women whose labour created our world.” — Angela Carter, in her Introduction
amphitheas: Antigonick (Sophokles) trans. Anne Carson
antigonick: “The gap between the poetry she wrote and the poetry she contained was, for Natalie, something unsolvable.” — Shirley Jackson, Hangsaman
antigonick: “ELEKTRA : I ask this one thing: let me go mad in my own way.” — Sophokles, Elektra (tr. by Anne Carson)
antigonick: “ELEKTRA : How is it your soul kills my soul?” — Sophokles, Elektra (tr. by Anne Carson)
antigonick: “ELEKTRA : I cannot not grieve.” — Sophokles, Elektra (tr. by Anne Carson)
antigonick: “—walking silently among the trees, aware of their terrifying silence, so much more expectant by night, and their great unbent heads, and the darkness they pulled about her with silent hands.” — Shirley Jackson, Hangsaman
antigonick: “This is me, anonymous, water’s soliloquy, all names, all voices, Slip-Shape, this is Proteus, whoever that is, the shepherd of the seals, driving my many selves from cave to cave…” — Alice Oswald, excerpt of Dart
antigonick: Hey, thought I’d share a few useful links here, if that can help a fraction. Jane Mount compiled a short-list of elementary reading on BLM and Anti-Racism HERE, and if you can’t buy them, you can still get your hands on a few: James Baldwin’s
antigonick: “—the way somebody comes back, but only in a dream.” — Mary Oliver, excerpt of “We Should Be Well Prepared”, in Red Bird
antigonick: “134. It calms me to think of blue as the colour of death. I have long imagined death’s approch as the swell of a wave—a towering wall of blue. You will drown, the world tells me, has always told me. You will descend into a blue underworld,
antigonick:“I have dreamt in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.” — Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
antigonick: “I dip my cupped hands. I drink a long time. It tastes like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold into my body, waking the bones. I hear them deep inside me, whisperingoh what is that beautiful thing that just happened?” — Mary Oliver,
antigonick: “Opening the book, I inhaled. The smell of old books, so sharp, so dry you can taste it.” — Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale
tinyconfusion: antigonick: “—if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.” — Jane Austen, Emma
antigonick: “I am living on the moon, I told myself, I have a little house all by myself on the moon.” — Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle
lilymaidofgallifrey: “She has filled the tower with books, and a huge old cat, and she may practice alchemy there, for all anyone knows.” — Shirley Jackson, excerpt of “A Visit”, in The Folio Book of Ghost Stories (via antigonick)
antigonick: “it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.” — Mary Oliver, excerpt of “Invitation”, in Red Bird
antigonick:“HADES : Tell them that you weren’t hungry, tell them you followed the pomegranates seeds because they tasted like blood, like love.” — Pauline Albanese, The Closed Doors
antigonick: “But to abandon you […] would be to leave a part of myself behind, and how can I do that when I do not know which part you are?” — Louise Glück, excerpt of The Horse and The Rider
antigonick: “She had nothing to do but to forgive herself and be happier than ever.” — Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey
antigonick: Cy Twombly, Achilles Mourning The Death of Patroclus (1962)
clair-de-lune-moonlight: “—soon the murmur of the world was behind me—” — Daphné du Maurier, “Not After Midnight”, in Don’t Look Now and Other Stories (via antigonick)
antigonick: “I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone, it doesn’t have anything to do with you, it’s just me, and I don’t feel like explaining it.” — Ingeborg Bachmann, from Three Paths to the Lake; “Eyes to Wonder,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
antigonick: “As a child she was described as having the eyes of a half-tamed creature, being drawn to the unnatural, with a penchant for improvising tempestuous fairy stories.” — Patti Smith, in her Introduction to Wuthering Heights
antigonick: “You ache. You ache all over. You are aching to be you, but you’re scared of what it means to do so.” — Caleb Azumah Nelson, Open Water
pivovarovah: “PROCTOR : Lilac have a purple smell. Lilac is the smell of nightfall, I think.” — Arthur Miller, The Crucible (via antigonick)
kafk-a: Antigonick, Sophokles (tr. Anne Carson)
warsanshires: “I’m happy as I am, and love my liberty too well to be in a hurry to give it up for any mortal man.” — Louisa May Alcott, Good Wives (via antigonick)
antigonick: Monet’s nymphéas under swaying weeping willows at Giverny. We basked in the sun and walked through flower rows for hours on Saturday. (ig at ofavonlea)
sole-giallo: “Your thighs drenched with the sea” — Kenneth Rexroth, excerpt of “Open the Blind”, in Sacramental Acts (via antigonick)
antigonick: “Let us have the luxury of silence.” — Jane Austen, Mansfield Park
andante-elegiaco: “Dear night-time, dear dark mouth hovering over me—” — Emily Berry, excerpt of Letter to Husband (via antigonick)
antigonick: How do I love you?Oh, this way and that way.Oh, happily. Perhaps I may elaborate bydemonstration? Likethis, andlike this and no more words now —Mary Oliver, “How Do I Love You?”, in Felicity
tristealven: “Unbody me–I’m tired–and get me home.” — Ralph Hodgson, excerpt of “The Moor”, from Eve, And Other Poems (1913) (via antigonick)
![antigonick: “But to abandon you […] would be to leave a part of myself behind, and how can I do that when I do not know which part you are?” — Louise Glück, excerpt of The Horse and The Rider](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4d273a6969f395a17f2d598c88232cd0/0ec49db7735e8ac0-f2/s512x512u_c1/03100bef181eb0caec7b5594dbabc0e512d398ff.png)
