" I sleep with my feet on moss carpets, my branches in the cotton of the clouds. "
Anaïs Nin, Under a Glass Bell
" Two hundred and ten million years of desire wash through me. Blood-eater. Suppose I let it escape as seeds shoot through the eyes of a dream god—would it frighten him away? Men know almost nothing about desire, they think it has to do with sexual activity or can be discharged that way. But sex is a substitute, like money or language. Sometimes I just want to stop seeing. "
Anne Carson, Plainwater (via theperfumemaker)