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

Jack Gilbert

Happening Apart from What’s Happening Around It There is a vividness to eleven years of love because it is over. A clarity of Greece now because I live in Manhattan or New England. If what is happening is part of what’s going on around what’s occurring, it is impossible to know what is truly happening.… Continue reading Jack Gilbert

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Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Latin-American Culture · Latin-American Literature · Poetry · Romanticism

Pablo Neruda

Until later, we’ll speak before then. Or speak after, I don’t remember, or perhaps we haven’t even met or cannot communicate. I have these crazy habits – ! speak, there is no one and I don’t listen, I ask myself questions and never answer. —Pablo Neruda, from “Soliloquy at twilight,” Extravagaria. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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American Culture · American Literature · Book Series · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fantasy · Horror · Literature · Magical Realism · Paraphrase · Quote · Speculative Fiction · Thriller · Urban Fantasy

Jonathan Carroll

 I think we love differently every day. Like the guy who said you can’t stand in a river at exactly the same place twice. Today I love you differently than yesterday, or will tomorrow.  —   Jonathan Carroll, After Silence. (Doubleday, 1992)

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Coming of Age · Contemporary · Excerpt · Historical Fiction · Literature · Paraphrase · Quote · Young Adult

Carol Rifka Brunt

`Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again. —   Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home. (The Dial Press (June 19, 2012)

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American Counterculture · American Literature · Americana · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Paraphrase · Poetry · Quote · Short Stories · Stream of Consciousness · The Beat Generation

Jack Kerouac

The page is long, blank, and full of truth. When I am through with it, it shall probably be long, full, and empty with words. —  Jack Kerouac, Atop an Underwood: Early Stories and Other Writings (Penguin Books; Fourth Printing edition November 1, 2000)

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