I used to think that I could never lose anyone if I photographed them enough. In fact, my pictures show me how much I’ve lost. — Nan Goldin Advertisements
Li-Young Lee God, that old furnace, keeps talking with his mouth of teeth, a beard stained at feasts, and his breath of gasoline, airplane, human ash. His love for me feels like fire, feels like doves, feels like river-water. — Li-Young Lee, from “This Hour and What Is Dead,” The City In Which I Love… Continue reading
Is it true that the beyond, that everything beyond is here in this life? I can’t hear you. Who goes there? Is it only me? Is it myself? — André Breton, Nadja. (Grove Press January 11, 1994) Originally published 1928.
We die with the dying: See, they depart, and we go with them. We are born with the dead: See, they return, and bring us with them. — T. S. Eliot, from “Little Gidding,” The Four Quartets. (Faber & Faber 1959) Originally published 1943.
Sifting daylight dissolves the memory, turns it into dust motes floating in light. — Toni Morrison, Beloved (Alfred A. Knopf, 1987)
I have my dead, and I have let them go, and was amazed to see them so contented, so soon at home in being dead, so cheerful, so unlike their reputation. Only you return; brush past me, loiter, try to knock against something, so that the sound reveals your presence. — Rainer Maria Rilke, from… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke
It only takes two facing mirrors to build a labyrinth. — Jorge Luis Borges, Seven Nights. (New Directions; First Edition edition October 1984) Originally published 1977.