[The force that through the green fuse drives the flower] The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer. And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. The force… Continue reading Dylan Thomas
I used to build dreams about you. — F. Scott Fitzgerald, from “Benediction,” Flappers and Philosophers. (Dodo Press August 3, 2006) Originally published by Charles Scribner’s Sons (1920)
I am troubled, immeasurably by your eyes. I am struck by the feather of your soft reply. The sound of glass speaks quick, disdain and conceals what your eyes fight to explain. ― Jim Morrison, Wilderness: The Lost Writings, Vol. (Vintage; 1st Vintage Books ed edition, December 17, 1989) Originally published 1988.
We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention. We must cut the threads. — Ben Whishaw [John Keats] Bright Star (2009) Directed by Jane Campion.
And I slept on like a bent finger. The first thing I saw was sheer air And the locked drops rising in a dew Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay Dense and expressionless round about. I didn’t know what to make of it. I shone, mica-scaled, and unfolded To pour myself out like a fluid… Continue reading Sylvia Plath
When the soul suffers too much, it develops a taste for misfortune. — Albert Camus
and then there are some who believe that old relationships can be revived and made new again. but please if you feel that way don’t phone don’t write don’t arrive. — Charles Bukowski, from “Alone Again,” Come On In!: New Poems. (Ecco (March 27, 2007) Originally published January 3rd 2006.
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow, and I am in them, and this is eternity. — Edvard Munch
Words or wax, no end to our self-shaping, our forlorn awareness at the end of which is only more awareness. Was ever truth so malleable? Arid, inadhesive bits of matter. What might heal you? Love. What make you whole? Love. My love. — C. K. Williams, from “Lost Wax,” Repair (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1999)
Love’s gift cannot be given, it waits to be accepted. — Rabindranath Tagore