Jack Gilbert’s The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart, from his collection The Great Fires
(Source: printed-ink, via trouve-moi)
You always hurt the one you love,
The one you shouldn’t hurt at all.
You always take the sweetest rose,
And crush it till the petals fall.
You always break the kindest heart,
With a hasty word you can’t recall.
So, if I broke your heart last night,
It’s because I love you most of all.
Ma vie, ma vie, ma très ancienne
Mon premier voeu mal refermé
Mon premier amour infirmé,
Il a fallu que tu reviennes
hélas
To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,
Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?
Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
Scrawled over on some boyish holiday
With idle songs for pipe and virelay,
Which do but mar the secret of the whole.
Surely there was a time I might have trod
The sunlit heights, and from life’s dissonance
Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God.
Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod
I did but touch the honey of romance—
And must I lose a soul’s inheritance?
- oscar wilde “hélas”
an understatement waiting to explode
I woke up this morning
Now I understand
What it means to give your life
To just one man
Afraid of feeling nothing
No bees or butterflies
My head is full of questions
And my house is full of lies
This is home, home
And this is home, home
This is home
I found you standing there
When I was seventeen
Now I’m thirty-two
And I can’t remember what I’d seen in you
I made a promise
Said it everyday
Now I’m reading romance novels
And dreaming of yesterday
I’d like to see the Riviera
And slowdance underneath the stars
I’d like to watch the sun come up
In a stranger’s arms
I’m going crazy
A little every day
And everything I wanted
Is now driving me away
I woke this morning
To the sound of breaking hearts
Mine is full of questions
And it’s tearing yours apart…
- sheryl crow “home”
l’été, tu me manques profondement.
il existe au milieu du temps, la possibilité d’une île
j’y pense souvent. ce fut le plus beau moment de ma vie.
(Source: hey-steviewevie, via whyfrance)
(Source: soullesscorpse, via fuckyeahphotographics)
j’étais un aventurier, mais maintenant c’est terminé.
nous aurons toujours Paris
do bad things
