“[…] and I wonder if Beethoven held his breath
the first time his fingers touched the keys
the same way a soldier holds his breath
the first time his finger clicks the trigger.
We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.”—Andrea Gibson (via cartographe)
“I look up. The ceiling is pearly.
My thighs press, knotting in their treasure.
I myself have little stiff legs,
my back is as straight as a book
and how I came to this place—
the little feverish roses,
the islands of olives and radishes,
the blissful pastimes of the parlor—
I’ll never know.”—Anne Sexton from “Wallflower”. (via violentwavesofemotion)