And Beauty is a form of Genius -- is higher, indeed, than Genius, as it needs no explanation. It is of the great facts of the world, like sunlight, or springtime, or the reflection in dark waters of that silver shell we call the the moon. It cannot be questioned. It has its divine right of sovereignty. It makes princes of those who have it.

I might be down in the dumps a hundred times, but each time I would clamber out again to good coffee on a lacquered tray beside an open fire. Each time I would clamber out to silk stockings and perfume. Luxury is not a necessity to me, but beautiful and good things are.

The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.

I think, even, if I ever die, and they stick me in a cemetery, and I have a tombstone and all, it'll say "Holden Caulfield" on it, and then what year I was born and what year I died, and then right under that it'll say "Fuck You". I'm positive, in fact.

Natasha Poly in Muse #19 November 2009, Day and Night.

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When i can't express
what i really feel
i practice feeling
what i can express
and none of it is equal

I know
but that's why mankind
alone among the animals
learns to cry

(also, I was going to post a bit of Frank O'Hara and then I remembered it was here I learned of him at all! <3)

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Naty Chabanenko in Exit fall/winter 2009.

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"Do you like street music?" said Raskolnikov, addressing a middle-aged man standing idly by him. The man looked at him, startled and wondering.
"I love to hear singing to a street organ," said Raskolnikov, and his manner seemed strangely out of keeping with the subject--"I like it on cold, dark, damp autumn evenings--they must be damp--when all the passers-by have pale green, sickly faces, or better still when wet snow is falling straight down, when there's no wind--you know what I mean?--and the street lamps shine through it . . ."


Fyodor Dostoevsky
Crime and punishment, Ch. 13