“For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.”
—W. B. Yeats, from “The Stolen Child” (thanks, jenzhan)

(Source: the-final-sentence)

“My poems express more of my silence than of my talking. As music is a kind of silence. Sounds are needed for different layers of silence to be highlighted.”
—Anna Kamienska, from The Notebook: 1965-72 in Astonishments, trans. Grazyna Drabik and David Curzon (via proustitute)