And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep. — Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five. (Delacorte 1969)
there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movements of the hands of a clock ― Charles Bukowski, from “the crunch,” Love Is a Dog from Hell: Poems, 1974-1977. (Ecco; Ecco edition May 31, 2002) Originally published 1977.
It is only through mystery and madness that the soul is revealed ― Thomas Moore (1940 -), Care of the Soul: A Guide for Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life. (HarperPerennial; Reprint edition January 26, 1994) Originally published January 26th 1988.
Nothing But Death There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves, as though we were drowning inside our hearts, as though we lived falling out of the skin… Continue reading Pablo Neruda
And it is you, spirit–with will and energy, and virtue and purity–that I want, not alone with your brittle frame. ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre. (Penguin Classics; 9th Printing edition February 4, 2003) Originally published October 16th 1847.
She twists like a flame. Her back, a sierra of bone, her hips, a sandstone canyon. And I can believe her gaze, born from a thousand years dreaming and as dew-cool as moonlight, is only for me. — Eliot Khalil Wilson, from “New Orleans Odalisque,” The Saint of Letting Small Fish Go (Cleveland State University… Continue reading Eliot Khalil Wilson
Stars and shadows ain’t good to see by. ― Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Penguin Classics; 1ª ed., 1ª imp. edition December 31, 2002) Originally published December 10th 1884.