American Literature · Classic · Contemporary · Language Driven Poetry · Online Anthology · Online Review · Poetry · Quarterly

Richard Jackson

Alternate Endings There are times when they gather at the edge of your life, Shadows slipping over the far hills, daffodils blooming too early, the dark matter of the universe that threads its way through the few thousand blackbirds that have invaded the trees out back. Every ending sloughs off our dreams like snakeskin. This… Continue reading Richard Jackson

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Classic · Excerpt · Fragment · Inspirational · Lebanese-American Culture · Lebanese-American Literature · Motivational · Non-fiction · Philosophy · Poetry · Spirituality

Kahlil Gibran

You need not fear, my love, for never have the stars on high told what they know. ― Kahlil Gibran, from “[Let me take you],” The Beloved: Reflections on the Path of the Heart. (Penguin Books; Reissue edition January 1, 1998) Originally published 1994.

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British Culture · Classic · English Literature · Excerpt · Fiction · Modernism · Novel · Passage · Quote

Virginia Woolf

… well, not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others… Beneath it all is dark, it is all spreading, it is unfathomably deep; but… Continue reading Virginia Woolf

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American Culture · American Literature · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Online Anthology · Online Review · Passage · Periodical · Poetry

Rebecca Lindenberg

Where have you gone, taking your wrists and the writing across them? Where have you taken your dark gaze and your moods turning like stars in the black? —  Rebecca Lindenberg, from “Unsonnet: Dark Matter,” National Endowment for the Arts, Writers’ Corner: 2011 Poetry.

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British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Comic · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fantasy · Fiction · Graphic Novel · Horror · Passage · Quote · Sequential Art

Neil Gaiman

Her kiss is the deep ocean. Her kiss is not the deep ocean. Her kiss is the grey sky. Her kiss is a blind alley. Her kiss is her touch is her breath is her fingers is what remains after the laughing is over. Her kis is the black dog that follows you in the… Continue reading Neil Gaiman

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