Flower Herding on Mount Monadnock 1 I can support it no longer. Laughing ruefully at myself For all I claim to have suffered I get up. Damned nightmarer! It is New Hampshire out here, It is nearly the dawn. The song of the whippoorwill stops And the dimension of depth seizes everything. 2 The whistles… Continue reading Galway Kinnell
I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty. — Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. (Vintage Contemporaries; 1st edition May 18, 2004)
I tell you, the universe is the scratch of a match on the face of the calculus. And my thoughts are a picklock at work on a door, and behind it someone is dying. — Velimir Khlebnikov, “Suppose I make a timepiece of humanity,” (January 28th, 1922), The King of Time: Selected Writings of the… Continue reading Velimir Khlebnikov
The realist always falls in love with a girl he has grown up with, the romanticist with a girl from ‘off somewhere. — Robert Frost, The Letters of Robert Frost, Volume 1: 1886 – 1920. (Belknap Press: An Imprint of Harvard University Press; annotated edition edition February 27, 2014)
What can I tell you? Everything’s been locked up for the night, I couldn’t get it for you if I wanted to. But there must be some way— it’s drizzling, the lamps along the path are weeping, wanting to show you this tremendous thing, boxed in forever, always getting closer. —John Ashbery, from “Honored Guest,”… Continue reading John Ashbery
Woe to the man whose heart has not learned while young to hope, to love – and to put it’s trust in life! ― Joseph Conrad, Victory. (Penguin Classics November 1, 1995) Originally published 1915.
The litle boy was looking for his voice. (The King of the crickets had it.) In a drop of water the little boy was looking for his voice. I do not want it for speaking with; I will make a ring of it so that he may wear my silence on his little finger. — … Continue reading Federico García Lorca