This is how the world ends
Not with a bang, but a whimper.

T.S. Eliot

We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?

Christina Rossetti

There is no Frigate like a Book  
To take us Lands away,  
Nor any Coursers like a Page  
Of prancing Poetry –   
This Traverse may the poorest take         
Without oppress of Toll –   
How frugal is the Chariot  
That bears a Human soul.

Emily Dickinson

“STRANGER! if you, passing, meet me, and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me?
And why should I not speak to you?”

Walt Whitman - To you (Leaves of grass)

candygalaxy:

A l d u s  M a n u t i u s - printer & publisher

1502, Venice

The Divine Comedy

now property of the Newberry Library

(Source: another--galaxy, via booksnbuildings)

“…sunlight and singing welcome your coming although winter may be everywhere with such a silence and such a darkness no one can quite begin to guess (except my life) the true time of year and if what calls itself a world should have the luck to hear such singing (or glimpse such sunlight as will leap higher than high through gayer than gayest someone’s heart at your each nearness) everyone certainly would (my most beautiful darling) believe in nothing but love.”

E.E. Cummings

Deep in the forest there’s an unexpected clearing that can be reached only by someone who has lost his way.

The Clearing - Tomas Transtromer

(In mezzo al bosco c’é una radura inattesa, che puó essere trovata soltanto da chi si é perduto.)

Rolling its blues against another blue, the sea, and against the sky some yellow flowers. October is on its way. And although the sea may well be important, with its unfolding myths, its purpose and its risings, when the gold of a single yellow plant explodes in the sand are bound to the soil. They flee the wide sea and its heavings. We are dust and to dust return. In the end we’re neither air, nor fire, nor water, just dirt, neither more nor less, just dirt, and maybe some yellow flowers.

Pablo Neruda

I adore RL Frost

The Cat

Come, superb cat, to my amorous heart;
Hold back the talons of your paws,
Let me gaze into your beautiful eyes
Of metal and agate.

When my fingers leisurely caress you,
Your head and your elastic back,
And when my hand tingles with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,

In spirit I see my woman. Her gaze
Like your own, amiable beast,
Profound and cold, cuts and cleaves like a dart,

And, from her head down to her feet,
A subtle air, a dangerous perfume
Floats about her dusky body.

C. Baudelaire

(via tiger340)