Summer Solstice I wanted to see where beauty comes from without you in the world, hauling my heart across sixty acres of northeast meadow, my pockets filling with flowers. Then I remembered, it’s you I miss in the brightness and body of every living name: rattlebox, yarrow, wild vetch. You are the green wonder of… Continue reading Stacie Cassarino
I’ll say God seems to have a kind of laid-back management style I’m not crazy about. I’m pretty much anti-death. God looks by all accounts to be pro-death. I’m not seeing how we can get together on this issue, he and I. ― David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest. (Back Bay Books; 1st Paperback Ed edition… Continue reading David Foster Wallace
I am not I. I am this one walking beside me whom I do not see, whom at times I manage to visit, and whom at other times I forget; who remains calm and silent while I talk, and forgives, gently, when I hate, who walks where I am not, who will remain standing when… Continue reading Juan Ramón Jiménez
If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle… Continue reading Ernest Hemingway
They say eyes clear with age, As dew clarifies air To sharpen evenings, As if time put an edge Round the last shape of things To show them there; The many-levelled trees, To long soft tides of grass Wrinkling away the gold Wind-ridden waves—all these, They say, come back into focus As we grow old.… Continue reading Philip Larkin
When I look at my life and its secret colours, I feel like bursting into tears. Like that sky. It’s rain and sun both, noon and midnight… I think of the lips I’ve kissed, and of the wretched child I was, and of the madness of life and the ambition that sometimes carries me away.… Continue reading Albert Camus
It’s dark. You exhale a fist of memory. I love you like weathering wood in a room of empty pianos. When you return to something you love, it’s already beyond repair. You wear it broken. — James L. White, from “Lying in Sadness,” The Salt Ecstasies. (Graywolf Press June 22, 2010) Originally published 1981.