Martha Gellhorn, From A Letter To Ernest Hemingway Featured In The Selected Letters Of Marth Gellhorn

Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 5 [tr. James (2013)]

— danagray

Trista Mateer, from "Aphrodite Made Me Do It," originally published in 2019

— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra

There is nothing poetic in sadness. No salvation in pain.

You won't ease the suffering by running away.

It was always inside you.

The fear.

The grief.

The rage.

The sorrow.

Let it slip.

Nothing is everlasting but everything is eternal.

Maybe you fear death but

you're still about to be born.

We forgot who we actually are.

Tangled up in our daily lifes we believe everything that happens is important. That every bad thing that happened is proof that the universe is against us. But it's not.

We are it's children.

We are the same.

Margaret Atwood, “The Blind Assassin.”

Sleep depravity shall kill me.

14 April, 1939 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov

Happy Valentine's Day, I guess.