#violentwavesofemotion

[c8h11n-addicted]

Penso come un genio, scrivo come un autore eminente e parlo come un bambino. [...] Persino il sogno che descrivo a mia moglie mentre facciamo colazione è soltanto una prima bozza.

- Vladimir Nabokov, Intransigenze

#vladimir nabokov #intransigenze #violentwavesofemotions

[wedarkacademia]

(via violentwavesofemotion)

#literature #lit #english literature #classic lit #academia #soft academia #dark academia aesthetic #chaotic academia #romantic academia #reading #to read list #poet #readblr #quotes #quote #booklr #quoteblr #litblr #currently reading #text #dark academia #spilled thoughts #dark aesthetic #spilled ink #spilled words #classic literature #poem #tbr #beautiful quote #inspiring quotes

[yaya-tchoum]

“My soul has become aquatic and lunar; it is all coolness and brightness, and I live as if my soul were moon and water put under glass.”

•Georges Rodenbach•

# Georges Rodenbach, from “Aquarium Mental V,” written c. June 1882 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[fairydrowning]

– Anne Sexton, from a letter to Anne Clarke dated March 23, 1964. Via "violentwavesofemotion"

[TEXT ID:"I feel lonely. I feel worse - strange. And when I leave I cry in the car. And I say to myself that the trouble with life is that people are strangers. Anne...people are strangers. I don't know if I can go on spilling myself out to people - those strange strangers. As I may have said, I am not at home in myself. I seem to be a ship that is sailing out of my own life." END ID]

#I'm not at home in myself #that line is just unexplainable and a bitter reality #dark academia #light academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark fantasy #fragments #excerpts #poetry #books & libraries #romanticism #anne sexton #quotes #quotations #lit #litblr #classic lit #classic literature #classic academia #chaotic academic aesthetic #on life #letters #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled love #spilled ink #words #txt posts #txt words #literature quotes

[dk-thrive]

“Three o'clock on a December afternoon; the rain drizzling; A moment’s blankness—then, what are you thinking?”

— Virginia Woolf, from The Complete Prose; “An Unwritten Novel.” (Independently published, August 12, 2021) (via violentwavesofemotion)

#sunday afternoon #afternoon #raining #rainy #december #virginia woolf #drizzling

[laylaslibrary]

like a spider, these days I eat my own heart,

—Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter to Ioannis Anghelakis c. November 1917

(via violentwavesofemotion)

#quotes #literature #poetry #aesthetic #poem #dark acadamia quotes #lit #dark acamedia

[89words]

In a way you did not let me down. In an absurd way you did not. You saw it too: we are mutually dominated by the understanding that we are drifting apart. I’m not the only one who knows it. I’m not the only one who feels it in every breath. How glorious; a mutual acquisition of a terrifying piece of knowledge that something is profoundly empty between our each glance. “We,” “Our,” “Mutual…" a shared space of coming to terms with a question which requires no answer as its sheer presence involves everything and nothing. “What is missing?”; a two-part question. No, in a way you did not let me down. So we agreed we have no idea of the dark nature of the missing, equally affecting us, element. WE have no idea. So I told you I loved you and I told you this is the one thing I still feel echoing through each and every intensely missing element. And we agreed on giving it time. We agreed that us, architectures of every possible realization, know that we can never be reduced to anything uninspiring and mediocre. It was explosive from the start, and it was bound to remain as explosive or rather turn to complete ashes and abstract tears of no particular quantity. “I love you too,” you texted me clumsily. “I love you and I know that a single ‘I love you’ is not where everything begins nor where everything ends but If there is anything I’d like you to know irrespective of any future perspective… is this, small yet entirely big ‘I love you.’” In every way, my darling, you did not let me down.

violentwavesofemotion-deactivated

[pelsjas]

She was transparent, heartbreaking. I would be afraid to be so vulnerable. I’d spent the last three years trying to build up some kind of a skin, so I wouldn’t drip with blood every time I brushed up against something. She was naked, she peeled herself daily.

Janet Fitch, from White Oleander (via violentwavesofemotion)

[violentwavesofemotion1]

Okay, so I was really inspired by Raphael and I wanted to write a fanfiction of him. Something I wanted to read myself. I love LOVE and YEARNING, and all that stuff, so I wrote it. It's a beauty and the beast retelling, and I'm really excited about it. I like how it's turning out so far.

The title is a little cheesy, but it's only because I couldn't come up with a better Title for the fanfic <3

#raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[theoptia]

I’ve been reading your blog since I was 17. I’m now 22 and I just want to say thank you. I would never have been exposed to literature in this way if not for you. I’ve even spread it around and gotten my younger family to read some Camus. You actually changed my life. I love literature so much just knowing my experience isn’t singular has been the biggest comfort in trying to grow up. So thank you . You deserve all the flowers 💐

♡ I remember being of similar age, if not younger, ardently reading Artemis' (violentwavesofemotions) blog. She introduced me to enduring sustenance, broadening my limited perspective of the humanities. She aroused the poet in me, the philosopher in me, the creator in me. Entities which laid latent in the recesses of my soul. I'm eternally grateful. The literary collective here on Tumblr is truly magical, enriching, and I'm deeply appreciative for the opportunity to inspire suchlike I was. To sustain the cycle. Thank you for this message!

#inquiry #anonymous

[c8h11n-addicted]

Con la precisione d’uno sbirro e d’un chirurgo tutte le mie ferite il sogno ha rovistato! Disseccata! Neanche una fessura sotto la cupola, dove potermi occultare ai profetici occhi miei propri. Come un confessore venale tutti i miei segreti – il sogno ha sconvolto!

- Marina Tsvetaeva

#marina tsvetaeva #marina cvetaeva #violentwavesofemotions

[arcane-ersana]

I do understand—and it is terrible.

Franz Kafka, from a letter to Felice Bauer written c. July 1915, featured in “Letters to Felice,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

#franz kafka #desi academia #desiblr

[echidnana]

beyond birthday.

x / x x / x / x x / x / x

[image description: 8 images.

1. text reading “I must have ice in my veins to do what I just did. I expect the ice to melt… But it doesn’t. It just gets colder and colder… And I welcome it.”

2. a drawing of two hand held up. the index and middle finger of each hand are forming a heart. blood drips from both hands. the drawing is monochrome except for the blood, which is dark red.

3. a cream colored surface splattered heavily with bright red blood.

4. text highlighted in gray reading “Wrong, I know, killing someone / It gets a little easier when you’ve / done it once”. below is additional text in a different font reading “If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two”.

5. a photo of a white teacup filled with blood, dripping over the side and into the saucer.

6. a white surface splattered with dark red blood.

7. text reading “I’m not too gone to be healed, am I? I’m not too gone, am I?” below is smaller text reading “-Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; “In The Pines,” (via violentwavesofemotion)”

8. text highlighted in blue reading “Murder’s as near to lust as flame to smoke.” /end ID]

#i’m normal about him. btw #our posts #blood tw #gore tw #ask to tag #webweaving #beyond birthday #B tag #long post

[betweenthetimeandsound]

“She had the sea within her soul, continuously.” — Salvatore Quasimodo, tr. by Manolis Aligizakis, from “The Tall Schooner,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

"Coraline is longing for the sea, but is afraid of the water And maybe the sea is inside her" -- "Coraline", Maneskin

In her dreams she hears seagulls, calling her name.

Her friends only listen to drum and bass with nostalgic synthesizers playing to attract them to a sinking city, lit up by neon lights. Under them a jaundiced girl sleepwalks, dreaming not to land in another person's arms, but in the gelid waves, where they only break in rhythm, not when she's writhing as she's tied with live wires and trying to escape the memories which besiege her.

A languid cloud colors her reality; acid rain tarnishes her painted face, revealing a crescent moon on her left side. It doesn't shine for her; instead, it marks the wounds God opened to teach her patience--instead, she cuts them open to gain a slither of beauty.

In her dreams she sleeps in frothy clouds, with nobody to find her in the vines.

As the temperatures rise, and the swamps catch fire, her friends flee towards the mountains to find solace or salvation. She stands alone with the waves tickling her ankles, the seaweed wrapping around her legs like tentacles waiting for its prey and to throw her into the depths as if she were Persephone's sister gone astray.

Yet it's not the kraken which scares her

.It's the shells which want her to keep shut and make her into a prize to be won by filthy hands and women who want to emerge out of them fully anew. The milk which feeds the girl grows sour as the sun dawns with a lime green cast, and she awakens with the sea salt carting her back to the rocks, tormented and scarred, scared of how the day swallows her in their orbit. --Elda Mengisto

#poetry #my poetry #poets on tumblr #poetry on tumblr #dreamworld #dream #seashore #a death in the water #existential #writerscreed #coraline #writeblrcafe #review

[melancholichaven]

"I have created the isolation in which I find myself."

— Anas Nin, from a diary entry featured in Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary; 1939-1947 (via violentwavesofemotion)

#dark acadamia aesthetic #dark acadamia quotes #dark acadamia #classic academia #dead academia #academia aesthetic #dark academia #dark moodboard #post #booklr

[laylaslibrary]

Bewildered, burning with love, mad with sadness,”

— Arthur Rimbaud, from Selected Poems & Prose; “The Impossible,”

(via violentwavesofemotion)

#quotes #literature #aesthetic #poetry #poem #dark acadamia quotes #lit #dark acamedia #love quotes #loss #love poem #lovers