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E. M. Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born, tr. Richard Howard

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“Feeling (for a particular art, science, person, etc.) is divided spirit, is self-restriction: hence a result of self-creation and self-destruction.”

— Friedrich Schlegel, Critical Fragments

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Girl, aging girl, is haunted by own nothingness [...]

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath ⁠— 26th January 1958

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Eye contact, then that little smile.

via @thepersonalquotes

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Midwinter – invincible, immaculate. 

Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; from ‘The Snow Child’

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[...] develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath ⁠— 26th December 1958

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Winter is for dying, descending, hiding, forgetting. […] We welcome, for a time, destruction, chaos, death [...] We do not fight it. We submit to it, for it is what the season demands.

Jacqueline Holland, from 'The God of Endings'

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Sergey Yesenin, 20th Century Russian Poetry: Silver and Steel; from 'The Black Man', tr. Geoffrey Thurley

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morbid melancholy

Edgar Allan Poe, The Penguin Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe; from 'Metzengerstein'

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Poetry has saved my life and I respect it beyond both or any of us.

Anne Sexton, from ‘A Self-Portrait in Letters’ ⁠— W. D. Snodgrass, c. 15th November 1958

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[…] as I lean toward madness […]

Anne Sexton, from 'A Self-Portrait in Letters’ ⁠— W. D. Snodgrass, c. 15th November 1958

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Bret Easton Ellis, from 'The Shards'

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In the month of red leaves I climb to a bed of fire.

Sylvia Plath, Collected Poems; from ‘Poem for a Birthday’

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John Milton, from 'Paradise Lost'