And to live only once– What if that’s not enough? — Gregory Orr, from “All the different books you read.,” Concerning the Book That Is the Body of the Beloved. (Copper Canyon Press; First Edition edition, September 1, 2005)
Silence reveals itself only to itself. Only when we enter as nothing and stay as nothing, will silence open its secret. ― Adyashanti, Emptiness Dancing. (Sounds True; 2nd edition, May 1, 2006) Orriginally published 2004.
Full Moon Good God! What did I dream last night? I dreamt I was the moon. I woke and found myself still asleep. It was like this: my face misted up from inside And I came and went at will through a little peephole. I had no voice, no mouth, nothing to express my trouble,… Continue reading Alice Oswald
The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing, which can seem infinite, like a tunnel whose end you can’t see, whose beginning you’ve forgotten, but in the sudden realization that something finite, has passed, and is irretrievable. — Joyce Carol Oates, Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang (Dutton, 1993)
Stumble, pretend you’re dead. Just for me, pretend you can be hurt by something so simple as a failed emotion. Pretend you have seen loss. — Pier Giorgio di Cicco, from “I Want You to See,” Women We Never See Again (Ottawa: Borealis Press, 1984)
Fulfil me, make me happy, make me feel safe, tell me who I am. The world cannot give you those things, and when you no longer have such expectations, all self-created suffering comes to an end. — Eckhart Tolle
Poetry– but what sort of thing is poetry? More than one shaky answer has been given to this question. But I do not know and do not know and clutch on to it, as to a saving bannister. — Wislawa Szymborska, from “Some Like Poetry,” The New Yorker: October 21, 1996 Issue.