Turtle Writer

In approved places, every story serves a purpose. But forbidden books are so much more. Some of them are webs; you can feel your way along their threads, but just barely, into strange and dark corners. Some of them are balloons bobbing up through the sky: totally self contained, and unreachable, but beautiful to watch.

And some of them-the best ones-are doors.

—Lauren Oliver, Pandemonium (via noseinabook)

(via prettybooks)

If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there.

—Lewis Carroll (via booksandnerds)

March days return with their covert light,
and huge fish swim through the sky,
vague earthly vapours progress in secret,
things slip to silence one by one.
Through fortuity, at this crisis of errant skies,
you reunite the lives of the sea to that of fire,
grey lurchings of the ship of winter
to the form that love carved in the guitar.
O love, O rose soaked by mermaids and spume,
dancing flame that climbs the invisible stairway,
to waken the blood in insomnia’s labyrinth,
so that the waves can complete themselves in the sky,
the sea forget its cargoes and rages,
and the world fall into darkness’s nets.

—March days return with their covert light, Pablo Neruda (via booksandimagination)

It would be a thousand pities if women wrote like men, or lived like men, or looked like men, for if two sexes are quite inadequate, considering the vastness and variety of the world, how should we manage with only one? Ought not education to bring out and fortify the differences rather than the similarities?

—Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own (via winterlief)

(via booklover)