ein jeder engel ist schrecklich. - rilke

Favorite Gone With The Wind Banter


You need kissing badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. All your beaux have respected you too much, though God knows why, or they have been too afraid of you to really do right by you. The result is that you are unendurably uppity. You should be kissed and by someone who knows how.


And I suppose you think you are the proper person?


Oh, yes, if I cared to take the trouble. They say I kiss very well.


Oh! Why, you..


Of course, you’ve probably wondered why I never tried to follow up that chaste peck I gave you, the day I brought you that bonnet--


I have never--


Then you aren’t a nice girl, Scarlett, and I’m sorry to hear it. All really nice girls wonder when men don’t try to kiss them. They know they shouldn’t want them to and they know they must act insulted if they do, but just the same, they wish the men would try... Well, my dear, take heart. Some day, I will kiss you and you will like it. But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient.

“My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Healthcliff! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.”

—   Catherine, Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)

haiku 11/19/13

furnace melts iron

lava pouring on the sand

beauty despite filth

“Mind you, sometimes the angels smoke, hiding it with their sleeves, and when the archangel comes, they throw the cigarettes away: that’s when you get shooting stars.”

—   Vladimir Nabokov

(Source: larmoyante, via thatkindofwoman)

“No matter how careful you are, there’s going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn’t experience it all. There’s that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should’ve been paying attention.”

—   Chuck Palahniuk
Invisible Monsters  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: breakfistedclub, via dontpanlc)


Burnham Park, Baguio City. 6/29/13

Things I miss

Spanish class. Getting Spanish words in the air as I struggle to compose decent sentences. UP Diliman. Palma Hall (I sound like a freshman). CAL. Econ. Libraries. The worn-down shortcut path in the Sunken Garden. The indescribable feeling of solitude as I sit and listen alone in lecture rooms. Reading and sleeping during lazy afternoon breaks. 

I want to time travel to my university days.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.”

—   Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”

—   Fyodor Dostoevsky