I longed to read everything I possibly could, and the things I read in turn produced new yearnings.
I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so it all proceeds into deepest darkness.
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
I feel the need to swing away from constant explanations. I want to run away from too much consciousness, too much awareness. At night, I seek dancing, friendships, nature, forgetfulness, music, or sleep.
Body cells replace themselves every month. Even at this very moment. Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.
You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken.
…to evolve into new cycles, one has to learn to discard….if one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects…they reflect one’s mind and psyche of yesterday…
Language of Flowers
balsam, red: touch me not
hemlock: you will be my death
mourning bride: i have lost all
butterfly weed: let me go
I think I’ll be an old maid until I die. I’ll probably sit around with cats for the rest of my life. Whatever happens, I certainly won’t start to drink. But I do have what you call entrenched habits, and I’m not going to change them.
acosmist - One who believes that nothing exists
paralian - A person who lives near the sea
aureate - Pertaining to the fancy or flowery words used by poets
dwale - To wander about deliriously
sabaism - The worship of stars
dysphoria - An unwell feeling
aubade - A love song which is sung at dawn
eumoirous - Happiness due to being honest and wholesome
mimp - To speak in a prissy manner, usually with pursed lips