“Dos se juntan, pero no se mezclan. Dos se juntan, aunque forman una trinidad: tú, yo, y tú y yo. Dos en amor es para gozar, procurarse felicidad y cuidarse mutuamente. Sin dejar de ser ellos mismos. Es una experiencia única que permite un conocimiento profundo de uno mismo, a la vez que lo extirpa de su tendencia egocéntrica. Justamente lo que le faltó a Karenina. Solo se escuchó a sí misma. Quiso ver en su amado su propia pasión y quiso eternizarla. El amor auténtico, el amor duro, no se robustece de sensiblerías, sino de la alegría de saber que podemos contar con el otro, pase lo que pase. Es el amor de la reciprocidad, de la amistad y del ágape, de la ternura y de la compasión.”
“Quiero este momento. Es, es lo que quiero en una relación… lo que podría explicar por qué estoy soltera ahora, ja-ja… Es un poco difícil de… es esa cosa de cuando estás con alguien y lo amas y él lo sabe y él te ama y tú lo sabes… Pero es una fiesta y… los dos están hablando con otras personas, y se están riendo y brillando… y se miran a través de la gente y sus ojos se encuentran… Pero, pero no porque sean posesivos o porque se trate de algo sexual… sino porque… esa es tu persona… en esta vida. Y es gracioso y triste, pero solo porque esta vida terminará… Y es ese mundo secreto… que existe justo ahí… en público, imperceptible, sobre el que nadie más sabe… Es un poco como cuando dicen que existen otras dimensiones a nuestro alrededor pero no tenemos la habilidad de percibirlas. Eso es… Eso es lo que quiero de una relación… O solo de la vida, supongo… amor… Blo, sueno drogada… No estoy drogada… Gracias por la cena, chaaau…”
— frances ha
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3
“Bradbury was always talking about how he never did a day of work in his life. He always wrote with love and with joy and that was the only way to really be for him. I think that sort of romantic idea of the despondent writer somewhere secluded, drinking and cutting her veins or whatever, is just horrible! And, I think a lot creators today think that that is the way to have good ideas, but I think just being in touch with your emotional reality is what it takes to make meaningful work.”
— Maria Popova
“The real work is how not to hang your self-worth, your sense of success and merits, the fullness of your heart, and the stability of your soul on those numbers—on that constant positive reinforcement and external validation. That’s the only real work, and the irony is that the more “successful” you get, by either your own standards or external standards, the harder it is to decouple all of those inner values from your work. I think we often confuse the doing for the being.”
— Maria Popova
“From an entirely different angle, Williams has captured the same idea that we find in Woolf’s novels: that there is no final, satisfying way to balance our need to be known with our need to be alone. The balance is always uncertain and provisional; it’s always a matter of dissatisfaction, give-and-take, and sacrifice. Because an artist’s privacy is a state of mind, rather than a matter of law, there are no rules to help us master it. It’s up to each of us to balance the risks and rewards—to trade, in right proportion, loneliness for freedom, explicability for mystery, and the knowable for the unknown within ourselves.”
“The key point is: much about your fate is not your own work. You did not invent the world. You are not personally entirely responsible for your condition. The suffering is real, but remember that it is less personal than we tend to suppose.”

Q

Anonymous asked:

ayer te vi , me enamoré y ahora estoy aca, escribiéndote y viendo tus cosas (:

A

oh gracias, espero que te hayan gustado mis cosas. lo de enamorarse es mucho. saludos! (:

“Woolf often conceives of life this way: as a gift that you’ve been given, which you must hold onto and treasure but never open. Opening it would dispel the atmosphere, ruin the radiance—and the radiance of life is what makes it worth living. It’s hard to say just what holding onto life without looking at it might mean; that’s one of the puzzles of her books. But it has something to do with preserving life’s mystery; with leaving certain things undescribed, unspecified, and unknown; with savoring certain emotions, such as curiosity, surprise, desire, and anticipation. It depends on an intensified sense of life’s preciousness and fragility, and on a Heisenberg-like notion that, when it comes to our most abstract and spiritual intuitions, looking too closely changes what we feel. It has to do, in other words, with a kind of inner privacy, by means of which you shield yourself not just from others’ prying eyes, but from your own. Call it an artist’s sense of privacy.”