Sighing, like a hidden wind
I see your face
and breathe again
There is a light which shines
over secrets in our lives
Shines for you, and me
my friend
stars in my eyes,
stars in my heart
give me light to see
I wish, I wish
with all my soul and art
Shadows come, and shadows go
flicker fade into,
and out of existence
No resistance against the light
like a shadow in the sun
You were gone,
now you’re here
never too far away, my dear
still
You and I are one
“A single metaphor can give birth to love.”
— Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Jean Baudrillard, (2007), L’arte di scomparire, in Perché non è già tutto scomparso?, Translation by David Santoro, «(etcetera)», Castelvecchi, Lit Edizioni, Roma, 2013, pp. 15-22
“Why, darling, I don’t live at all when I’m not with you.”
— Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (via books-n-quotes)
I don’t know how to wish you well.
Ellen Doré Watson (via quotemadness)
What passes for hip cynical transcendence of sentiment is really some kind of fear of being really human, since to be really human is probably to be unavoidably sentimental and naïve and goo-prone and generally pathetic.
David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (via quotespile)
There are ways of dying that don’t end in funerals. Types of death you can’t smell.
Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman (via quotespile)