My mother said I must always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding of illiteracy. That some people, unable to go to school, were more educated and more intelligent than college professors.
Maya Angelou (via ceedling)
(Source: xxxi-i-mcmxcii, via ancestryinprogress)
I wrote “Their Eyes Were Watching God” in Haiti. It was dammed up in me, and I wrote it under internal pressure in seven weeks. I wish that I could write it again. in fact, I regret all of my books. It is one of the tragedies of life that one cannot have all the wisdom one is ever to possess in the beginning. Perhaps, it is just as well to be rash and foolish for a while. If writers were too wise, perhaps no books would be written at all. It might be better to ask yourself “Why?” afterwards than before. Anyway, the force from somewhere in Space which commands you to write in the first place, gives you no choice. You take up the pen when you are told, and write what is commanded. There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you.
Zora Neale Hurston, Dust Tracks on a Road (via whereissassy)
I loved you head over handles
like my first bicycle accident—
before the mouthful of gravel and blood,
I swore we were flying.
Sierra DeMulder (via larmoyante)
good grief people be writinggggggg. this is awesome.
i found a sonnet in your sleep
I couldn’t look away
ran my fingers down the manuscript of your muteness instead
amazed at the things you do not say
but your hands……they dance
while resting on the top of my breathing
even while you unaware
there is nothing sweeter sounding than the sincerity of silent slumber conversation’s flow
where I can tell how much love me
even with your eyes closed
~Ziggy…………………. Day 30 of 30
The way your name
sits on my tongue
my teeth have grown
only to protect it.
this is awesome! you’re just beautiful!