at the bottom of everything

elyse ::: new york

“I love you more than my own skin and even though you don’t love me the same way, you love me anyways, don’t you? And if you don’t, I’ll always have the hope that you do, and i’m satisfied with that. Love me a little. I adore you.” 
― Frida Kahlo

We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It’s one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it’s another to think that yours is the only path.

—Paulo Coelho

Just when I thought I wouldn’t find you,
you were there, the train was pulling away,
and I was watching you slowly eat
a dish of whipped cream and bananas
—the house special—in a cafe
in a city we didn’t know.
When you finished, we started walking
down a road that bent like a smile,
a shy smile, like the one the Japanese cat wore
on your purse. The road, we were told,
would take us to the end of  the line
where all lovers in search of  joy
packed on bullet trains—they’re the fastest
on two continents—arrive every hour.

Tomás Q. Morín, from “Love Train,” in Poetry (Vol. CCIII, No. 3, December 2013)

(Source: apoetreflects)

If you want to awaken all of humanity,
then awaken all of yourself.

If you want to eliminate the suffering in the world,
then eliminate all that is dark and negative in yourself.

Truly, the greatest gift you have to give
is that of your own self-transformation.

—Lao Tzu (via lazyyogi)

(Source: lazyyogi)

A Poem A Day: The Lanyard

apoemaday:

by Billy Collins

The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room
bouncing from typewriter to piano
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I found myself in the “L” section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word, Lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by…

We were kites flying in opposite directions attached to strings held by one hand.

—Miranda July, Something That Needs Nothing (via theunquotables)

Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer’s retina
as he stood in the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.

—Ted Kooser, “After Years” (via oofpoetry)

(via onehundreddollars)