The Song of Wandering Aengus I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream… Continue reading W.B. Yeats
I’m not much but I’m all I have. — Philip K. Dick, Martian Time-Slip. (Vintage; Reissue edition May 30, 1995) Originally published 1964.
but like a bell rung deep till dawn I drove down an aisle of sound, nothing real but in the bell, past the town where I was born. Once you cross a land like that you own your face more: what the light struck told a self; every rock denied all the rest of the… Continue reading William Stafford
There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody’s expense but his own. ― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick; or, The… Continue reading Herman Melville
Love, what does it matter that time, the very time that raised two flames, two waving heads of wheat, my body and your gentleness, tomorrow will hold them safe or mill the grain, and with those same unseen fingers erase the identities that separate us, giving us the final victory of being one beneath the… Continue reading Pablo Neruda
A prophet is the one who, when everyone else despairs, hopes. And when everyone else hopes, he despairs. You’ll ask me why. It’s because he has mastered the Great Secret: that the Wheel turns. ― Nikos Kazantzakis, The Last Temptation of Christ. (Simon & Schuster; Reprint edition March 1, 1998) Originally published 1952.
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait, sleepless. – through metaphor to reconcile the people and the stones. Compose. (No ideas but in things) Invent! Saxifrage is my flower that splits the rocks. — William Carlos Williams, “A Sort of… Continue reading William Carlos Williams
All at Once Is What Eternity Is. ― Kenneth Patchen, Wonderings. (New Directions; First Edition edition March 1971)
There’s this line in an unpublished poem of yours. The river is like that, a blind familiar. The wind will die down when I say so; the leaden and lessening light on the current. Then the moon will rise like the word reconciliation, like Walt Whitman examining the tear on a dead face. —… Continue reading Franz Wright
The adolescents of my generation, greedy for life, forgot in body and soul about their hopes for the future until reality taught them that tomorrow was not what they had dreamed, and they discovered nostalgia. ― Gabriel García Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores. (Vintage 2006) Originally published October 19th 2004.