I like not only to be loved, but also to be told that I am loved. I am not sure that you are of the same mind. But the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave. This is the world of light and speech, and I shall take leave to tell you that… Continue reading George Eliot
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence? I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds. Open your doors and look abroad. From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before. In… Continue reading Rabindranath Tagore
By watching, I know that the stars are not going to last. I have seen some of the best ones melt and run down the sky. Since one can melt, they can all melt; since they can all melt, they can all melt the same night. That sorrow will come—I know it. I mean to… Continue reading Mark Twain
And then the sky lit the morning. And then I went in to set my own house on fire. And then I lay down next to you: a body filling with feathers or with snow asking: and who are you that my love can light like this, like kerosene. — Olena Kalytiak Davis, from “Like… Continue reading Olena Kalytiak Davis
As to the pretty girls who went past, from the day on which I had first known that their cheeks could be kissed, I had became curious about their souls. And the universe had appeared to me more interesting. — Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time, Vol. II: Within a Budding Grove. (Modern Library… Continue reading Marcel Proust
Starlings in Winter Chunky and noisy, but with stars in their black feathers, they spring from the telephone wire and instantly they are acrobats in the freezing wind. And now, in the theater of air, they swing over buildings, dipping and rising; they float like one stippled star that opens, becomes for a moment fragmented,… Continue reading Mary Oliver
What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains. ― Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire. Dramatists Play Service, Inc.; unknown edition January 1998) Originally published 1947. Premiered Ethel Barrymore Theatre, New York City, New York December 3, 1947.