Just always be waiting for me. ― J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan, Henry Holt and Co. (BYR); 100 Anv edition (October 1, 2003) Originally published 1911.
Dogfish Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing kept flickering in with the tide and looking around. Black as a fisherman’s boot, with a white belly. If you asked for a picture I would have to draw a smile under the perfectly round eyes and above the chin, which was rough as a thousand sharpened… Continue reading Mary Oliver
Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor. – James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. (Penguin Classics;… Continue reading James Joyce
I love you, rotten, Delicious rottenness. …wonderful are the hellish experiences, Orphic, delicate Dionysos of the Underworld. ― D. H. Lawrence, from “Medlars and Sorb-Apples,” Birds Beasts and Flowers. (Penguin Uk, July 29, 1999) Originally published 1923.
It was a marvelous night, the sort of night one only experiences when one is young. The sky was so bright, and there were so many stars that, gazing upward, one couldn’t help wondering how so many whimsical, wicked people could live under such a sky. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky, from “White Nights” (1848), White Nights… Continue reading Fyodor Dostoyevsky
even before we met, when the assignment was to draw words with their own literal meanings I would write out each letter of the word LOVE using winning halves of wishbones, melted Crayons and the toe tips of the great dancers who’ve quit dancing because I don’t give up on shit like that. —Buddy Wakefield,… Continue reading Buddy Wakefield
You were said to have died of suffering. But you died because you searched for happiness at the risk of finding the void. — Édouard Levé, Suicide. (P.O.L. (ï¿½DITIONS); POL edition, April 15, 2008)
My love, whose name is just that, “my love,” my life’s flower is about to burn in my hand I beg you please let’s part — Ghassan Zaqtan, from “Beyond That,” The Silence That Remains: Selected Poems. Translated by Fady Joudah (Copper Canyon Press, 2017)
If you’re really listening, if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold evermore wonders. — Andrew Harvey