khiah

Dorian Gray
Words fall through me and always fool me.
Memories seep through my veins; let me be empty.

The universe actively loves itself and all of its parts. The world
loves itself and all of its parts. It is not true that energy is
neutral or indifferent.

Energy is active, positive, propelled by what can almost be called an
instantaneous pleasure with itself and its characteristics.

Despite all concepts to the contrary, energy is indeed at its basis,
love.

It is also composed of highly charged consciousness that operates in
almost a leapfrog fashion, with great bursts of exuberance and
vitality.

The great — the greatest creative force — that force that is the
origin for all physical life — did not suddenly appear once in some
distant past, sparking the birth of your reality, endowing it with an
energy that could only then run down, or dissipate.

Instead, ever-new virgin energy, so to speak, is created constantly,
and appears at every conceivable point within your universal system.

Each new rose in the springtime is in truth a new rose, composed of
completely new and unique energy, utterly itself, innocent, alive in
the world.

In the deepest of terms, while each body has a history, each moment
in the body’s existence is also new, freshly emerging into the world,
innocent and unique.

While there is indeed pain in the world, it is the miraculous
principle of pleasure that propels life itself.

—Seth (Jane Roberts)

(Source: whatyouareisnameless, via fern-frond)

Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording —all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.

—Sylvia Plath  (via perfumedsecrets)

(Source: raccoonwounds, via miss-andry-warhol)

They tell us the people we love are 72.8% water-
there is no such thing as crying,
we are only trying to turn ourselves inside out.
This is a noble pursuit

—Lewis Mundt, excerpt from “Water” (via pigmenting)

(via cravingspontaneity)