You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
ps: this is one of my all-time favorites. I always go to this to remind myself every now and then of something. I wish everyone I care about may have balance in their lives, joy in a space shared with others, as well as with oneself.
You’re sad because you’re sad.
It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.
Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessings. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.
Your sadness, your shadow,
whatever it was that was done to you
the day of the lawn party
when you came inside flushed with the sun,
your mouth sulky with sugar,
in your new dress with the ribbon
and the ice-cream smear,
and said to yourself in the bathroom,
I am not the favorite child.
My darling, when it comes
right down to it
and the light fails and the fog rolls in
and you’re trapped in your overturned body
under a blanket or burning car,
and the red flame is seeping out of you
and igniting the tarmac beside your head
or else the floor, or else the pillow,
none of us is;
or else we all are.
i must say a word about fear. it is life’s only true opponent. only fear can defeat life. it is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well i know. it has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. it goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. it begins in your mind, always. one moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, happy. then fear, disguised in the garb of mild-mannered doubt, slips into your mind like a spy. doubt meets disbelief and disbelief tries to push it out. but disbelief is a poorly armed foot soldier. doubt does away with it with little trouble. you become anxious. reason comes to do battle for you. you are reassured. reason is fully equipped with the latest weapons technology. but, to your amazement, despite superior tactics and a number of undeniable victories, reason is laid low. you feel yourself weakening, wavering. your anxiety becomes dread.
fear next turns fully to your body, which is already aware that something terribly wrong is going on. already your lungs have flown away like a bird and your guts have slithered away like a snake. now your tongue drops dead like an opossum, while your jaw begins to gallop on the spot. your ears go deaf. your muscles begin to shiver as if they had malaria and your knees to shake as though they were dancing. your heart strains too hard, while your sphincter relaxes too much. and so with the rest of your body. every part of you, in the manner most suited to it, falls apart. only your eyes work well. they always pay proper attention to fear.
quickly you make rash decisions. you dismiss your last allies: hope and trust. there, you’ve defeated yourself. fear, which is but an impression, has triumphed over you.
the matter is difficult to put into words. for fear, real fear, such as shakes you to your foundation, such as you feel when you are brought face to face with your mortal end, nestles in your memory like a gangrene: it seeks to rot everything, even the words with which to speak of it. so you must fight hard to express it. you must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. because if you don’t, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.
-from Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Lord please help. those bad things i thought of you, you know me better than that.
‘It’d be nice for me if you came to Garrucha’. He wanted to avoid argument at any cost.
‘I thought it’d be nice to sit at the café and watch the sea and wait for the boats to come in to buy fish.’
‘you want me to come with you, then?’
‘That’s different.’ She was suddenly lit with pleasure. ‘I don’t want to go to Garrucha but I want you to want me to go to Garrucha’
Kalian boleh maju dalam pelajaran, mungkin mencapai deretan gelar kesarjanaan apa saja, tapi tanpa mencintai sastra, kalian tinggal hanya hewan yang pandai.
Tahu kau mengapa aku sayangi kau lebih dari siapa pun? Karena kau menulis.
–Pramoedya Ananta Toer
is a village in the south of Scotland famous for runaway weddings. It is in Dumfries and Galloway, near the mouth of the River Esk and was historically the first village in Scotland, following the old coaching route from London to Edinburgh
let’s do something unusual, laugh our asses off
rules are there to break, regrets only make us soft
boys married at 14 and girls at 12 who cares
we only live once, twice if we pass the judgment day
buy plants, grow with them
break the routines and stare out the boredom
“there’s beauty in the breakdown”