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Philip Larkin

The first day after a death, the new absence    Is always the same; we should be careful Of each other, we should be kind    While there is still time. — Philip Larkin, from “The Mower,” Collected Poems (Farrar Straus and Giroux, 2001) Originally published October 10th 1988.

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Canadian Culture · Canadian Literature · Classic · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fiction · Music · Novel · Passage · Poetry · Prose Poetry

Leonard Cohen

It is fabled that we slowly lose the gift of speech with animals, that birds no longer visit our windowsills to converse. As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armor themselves against wonder. — Leonard Cohen, The Favorite Game. (Vintage; Reprint edition October 14, 2003) Originally published January 1st 1963.

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Abstract · American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry · The New York School

Frank O’Hara

Ode To Tanaquil LeClercq smiling through my own memories of painful excitement your wide eyes stare         and narrow like a lost forest of childhood stolen from gypsies two eyes that are the sunset of                                              two knees                                                             two wrists                                                                             two minds and the extended philosophical column, when they conducted the dialogues                … Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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Avant-garde · Classic · Excerpt · Fiction · French Culture · French Literature · Irish Culture · Irish Literature · Modernism · Novel · Paraphrase · Postmodernism · Quote · Stream of Consciousness · Theatre of the Absurd

Samuel Beckett

The essential is never to arrive anywhere, never to be anywhere. The essential is to go on squirming forever at the edge of the line, as long as there are waters and banks and ravening in heaven a sporting God to plague his creature, per pro his chosen shits. I’ve swallowed three hooks and am… Continue reading Samuel Beckett

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

Franz Wright

You were gone love voice invisible presence for lack of which welling up                   how would I live No lightbulbs And how would I write without light corner of Nowhere and Everywhere, I swear on my own grave I’ll never move again —Franz Wright, “Moving,” The Beforelife. (Knopf; 1 Reprint edition April 2, 2002)

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Adult · Classic · Confessional · Diary · Epistolary · Erotica · Excerpt · Fiction · Journal · Modernism · Notebook · Novel · Paraphrase · Postmodernism · Quote · Russian Literature

Vladimir Nabokov

When I try to analyze my own cravings, motives, actions and so forth, I surrender to a sort of retrospective imagination which feeds the analytic faculty with boundless alternatives and which causes each visualized route to fork and re-fork without end in the maddeningly complex prospect of my past. — Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita. (Olympia Press… Continue reading Vladimir Nabokov

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

Louise Glück

Do you dare send me away as though you were waiting for something better? There is no better. […] Only (softly, fiercely) the stars shining. Here, in the room, the bedroom. Saying I was brave, I resisted, I set myself on fire. —  Louise Glück, from “Stars,” The Seven Ages. (Ecco; Reprint edition March 26,… Continue reading Louise Glück

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