Esoterica · Fantasy · Historical · Literature · Magic · Mythology · Occult · Paraphrase · Philosophy · Quote · Religion · Renaissance

Ioan P. Couliano

Melancholy, being a kind of vacatio, separation of soul from body, bestowed the gift of clairvoyance and premonition. In the classifications of the Middle Ages, melancholy was included among the seven forms of vacatio, along with sleep, fainting, and solitude. The state of vacatio is characterized by a labile link between soul and body which… Continue reading Ioan P. Couliano

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Literature · Poetry

Galway Kinnell

Wait. Don’t go too early. You’re tired. But everyone’s tired. But no one is tired enough. Only wait a while and listen. Music of hair, Music of pain, music of looms weaving all our loves again. Be there to hear it, it will be the only time, most of all to hear, the flute of… Continue reading Galway Kinnell

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British Culture · British Literature · Christian Apologetics · Christianity · Classic · Collection · Correspondence · Epistolary · Excerpt · Humor · Paraphrase · Parody · Philosophy · Quote · Religion · Satire · Serial · Spiritual · Theology

C.S. Lewis

Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man’s best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them, in drumming of fingers and… Continue reading C.S. Lewis

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Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Journal · Palestinian Culture · Palestinian Literature · Poetry

Mahmoud Darwish

I would yearn for nothing no yesterday passing, no tomorrow to come and my present neither advancing nor retreating Nothing happening to me! If only I were a stone – I said – Oh if only I were some stone so that water would burnish me green, yellow – I would be placed in a… Continue reading Mahmoud Darwish

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Canadian Literature · Classic · Contemporary · Excerpt · Literature · Paraphrase · Poetry · Prose Poetry · Quote · Romanticism

Elizabeth Smart

When we sit on the gold grass of the cliff, the sun between us insists on a solution for which we search in vain, but whose insurgency we feel unbearably. I never was in love with death before, nor felt grateful because the rocks below could promise certain death. But now the idea of dying… Continue reading Elizabeth Smart

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