Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about. ― Rumi, Essential Rumi. (HarperOne; Reprint edition May 28, 2004) Originally published 1273.
Why was I calling you, wishing for you, why was I longing and thirsting for you with every curve of my soul and even with my ribs? — Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov. (The Russian Messenger (as serial) November 1880)
The Pains of Sleep Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, It hath not been my use to pray With moving lips or bended knees; But silently, by slow degrees, My spirit I to Love compose, In humble trust mine eyelids close, With reverential resignation, No wish conceived, no thought expressed, Only a sense… Continue reading Samuel Taylor Coleridge
We are little flames poorly sheltered by frail walls against the storm of dissolution and madness, in which we flicker and somtimes almost go out…we creep in upon ourselves and with big eyes stare into the night…and thus we wait for morning. — Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front. (Propyläen Verlag 29… Continue reading Erich Maria Remarque
Altruism is for those who can’t endure their desires. ― Stephen Dunn, from “Mon Semblable,” Different Hours
What is desire? Desire is a restaurant. Desire is watching you eat. Desire is pouring wine for you. Desire is looking at the menu and wondering what it would be like to kiss you. Desire is the surprise of your skin. Look – in between us now are the props of ordinary life – glasses,… Continue reading Jeanette Winterson
I saw you dancing last night on the roof Of your house all alone. I felt your heart longing for the Friend. I saw you whirling Beneath the soft bright rose That hung from an invisible stem in The sky, So I began to change into my best clothes In hopes of joining you Even… Continue reading Hāfez
Everything is chance, or nothing is chance. If I believed the first, I would be unable to live on, but I am not yet fully convinced of the second. ” — Etty Hillesum, An Interrupted Life: The Diaries and Letters of Etty Hillesum. (Picador November 15, 1996)
And like the moth that tries To enter the bright eye So I go shuffling out of life Just to hide in death awhile —Nick Cave, from “The Mercy Seat,” Tender Play. (Mute 19 September 1988)
But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathed, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of… Continue reading Haruki Murakami
The Vale of Soul-Making 