Analfabeta literaria

:)

(Source: kryptoniteinmybones, via titerede31minutos)

No nos da risa el amor cuando llega a lo más hondo de su viaje, a lo más alto de su vuelo: en lo más hondo, en lo más alto, nos arranca gemidos y quejidos, voces de dolor, aunque sea jubiloso dolor, lo que pensándolo bien nada tiene de raro, porque nacer es una alegría que duele. Pequeña muerte, llaman en Francia a la culminación del abrazo, que rompiéndonos nos junta y perdiéndonos nos encuentra y acabándonos nos empieza. Pequeña muerte, la llaman; pero grande, muy grande ha de ser, si matándonos nos nace

Eduardo Galeano

Eduardo Galeano

Escrúpulo, Oliverio Girondo

Una mamá así :)
 

(Source: gomezmillano, via nephastopheles)

Poemas de la última noche - Charles Bukowski

(via vertigodelapaginaenblanco)

Ernesto Sábato

(Source: acido-rosa)

I won’t blame you,
instead
I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.

Charles Bukowski

we are always asked
to understand the other person’s
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.

one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.

but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.

not their fault?

whose fault?
mine?

I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.

age is no crime

but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life

among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives

is. 

Charles Bukowski

Julio Cortázar

Diego, mi amor,

No se te olvide que en cuanto acabes el fresco nos juntaremos ya para siempre, sin pleitos ni nada—solamente para querernos mucho.

No te portes mal y haz todo lo que Emmy Lou te diga.

Te adoro más que nunca. Tu niña Frida.

(Escríbeme)

(via speakmnemosyne)

Me embriago en tu locura,
destilo sueños,
me sobran dudas, 
me sangran viejos instantes. 

Mijaíl Bakunin

Padre, hijo y espíritu santo. 

there must be a way.

surely there must be a way we have not yet
thought of.

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.

it will not say
“no”

—Charles Bukowski

(Source: speakmnemosyne)