I do not trust people who don’t love themselves and yet tell me, ‘I love you.’ There is an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt. — Maya Angelou
All I know is that this substitution of persons stops with you, because nothing can be substituted for you, and because for me it was for all eternity that this succession of terrible and charming enigmas was to come to an end at your feet. You are not an enigma for me. I say that… Continue reading André Breton
‘You reach a point,’ she wrote me once, ‘where you cannot cry anymore, and you look around you at people you know, at people your own age, and they’re not crying either. Something has been taken. And they are emptier. And they are grateful.’ —Lorrie Moore, from “What Is Seized,” The Collected Stories. (Faber and… Continue reading Lorrie Moore
If I’m lonely it’s with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore in the last red light of the year that knows what it is, that knows it’s neither ice nor mud nor winter light but wood, with a gift for burning — Adrienne Rich, from “Song,” Adrienne Rich’s Poetry and Prose. (W. W. Norton & Company;… Continue reading Adrienne Rich
I guess I’m trying to say, grab anything that goes by. It may not come around again. — John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent. (Penguin Classics; Reissue edition August 26, 2008) Originally published 1961.
Love has gone and left me,—and the neighbors knock and borrow, And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,— And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow There’s this little street and this little house. —Edna St. Vincent Millay, from “Ashes of Life,” Renascence and Other Poems. (Dover Publications; Unabridged edition November… Continue reading Edna St. Vincent Millay
I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice. – Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness. (Blackwood’s Magazine 1899 serial; 1902 book) Originally published 1899.
I would like my love to die and the rain to be raining on the graveyard and on me walking the streets mourning her who thought she loved me —Samuel Beckett, “I would like my love to die,” Collected Poems in English and French. (Calder Publications; First Edition edition March 1977) Originally published 1961.
Then the writing became so fluid that I sometimes felt as if I were writing for the sheer pleasure of telling a story, which may be the human condition that most resembles levitation. – Gabriel García Márquez, Introduction to Strange Pilgrims. (Vintage; Reprint edition November 14, 2006) Originally published 1993.
When You are Old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty… Continue reading W.B. Yeats