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Anna Akhmatova

I am in the middle of it: chaos and poetry; poetry and love and again, complete chaos. Pain, disorder, occasional clarity; and at the bottom of it all: only love; poetry. Sheer enchantment, fear, humiliation. It all comes with love. — Anna Akhmatova, The Akhmatova Journals, Volume I: 1938-1941 (Farrar Straus & Giroux (T); 1st… Continue reading Anna Akhmatova

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Faith · Inspirational · Motivational · Nature · Poetry · Spiritual

Mary Oliver

When Death Comes When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse   to buy me, and snaps the purse shut; when death comes like the measle-pox   when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,   I want to step… Continue reading Mary Oliver

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Stanley Kunitz

Womanly, a shadow combed Her dark tremendous hair beyond the violet border Of my sleep. Strong passionate hands I had, but could not find The red position of her heart, not the subtle order Of her lips and breasts, nor the breathing cities of her mind. — Stanley Kunitz, from “Poem,” The Collected Poems (W.… Continue reading Stanley Kunitz

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African-American Culture · African-American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Feminism · LGBT · Poetry · Queer · Race

Audre Lorde

It has rained for five days running the world is a round puddle of sunless water where small islands are only beginning to cope a young boy in my garden is bailing out water from his flower patch when I ask him why he tells me young seeds that have not seen sun forget and… Continue reading Audre Lorde

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Classic · Excerpt · Fiction · French Culture · French Literature · Novel · Paraphrase · Passage · Philosophy · Quote · Romance · Stream of Consciousness

Marcel Proust

It was she whom I loved and whom I could not therefore see without that anxiety, without that desire for something more, which destroys in us, in the presence of the person we love, the sensation of loving.” ― Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past, Part 2 – Within a Budding Grove, Vol. 2 (NBM… Continue reading Marcel Proust

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