After loving you so much, can I forget / you for eternity, and have no other choice? — Robert Lowell, from “Obit,” Notebook. (Farrar Straus & Giroux (T); Enlarged 3rd edition, July 1970) Originally published January 1st 1968.
That the light stalks your skin, no, that your skin makes it: a radiating hum, jive, a freedom, a beehive packed just as much with honey as does it hazard; also, a balm for where the sting sits, a treaty, country upon which I first laid my claim, but was usurped; where carefully do I… Continue reading Rickey Laurentiis
I like to begin where winds shake the first branch. ― Odysseus Elytis, Open Papers. (Copper Canyon Press, October 1, 1994)
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish’d. To… Continue reading William Shakespeare
Whoever doesn’t live in poetry cannot survive here on earth. ― Halldór Laxness, Under the Glacier. (Vintage, March 8, 2005) Originally published 1968.
I don’t have a philosophy: I have senses… If I talk about Nature, it’s not because I know what it is, But because I love it, and that’s why I love it, Because when you love you never know what you love, Or why you love, or what love is. Loving is eternal innocence, And… Continue reading Fernando Pessoa
Don’t talk unless you can improve the silence. ― Jorge Luis Borges
the suicide kid I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed. but all I could do was to get drunk again. worse, the bar patrons even ended up liking me. there I was trying to get pushed over the dark edge and I ended up with free drinks while somewhere else some… Continue reading Charles Bukowski
Let them think what they liked, but I didn’t mean to drown myself. I meant to swim till I sank — but that’s not the same thing. ― Joseph Conrad, from “The Secret Sharer,” The Secret Sharer and other stories. (Phoenix (an Imprint of The Orion Publishing Group Ltd), May 6, 1999) Originally published 1909.
Sometimes hope (ever more distant) spreads her long branches in the wind, — Roberto Sosa, from “Tegucigalpa,” Return of the River (Curbstone Books, 2001)