Charles Dickens
I want to escape from myself. For when I do start up and stare myself seedily in the face, as happens to be my case at present, my blankness is inconceivable–indescribable–my misery amazing. ― Charles Dickens
Month: February 2018
Charles Wright
Everything works against you The way the evening comes down Its trellises one rose at a time The watery knots of light That lap at your memory The way you thought of your life once An endless falling of seeds. — Charles Wright, from “One Two Three,” Hard Freight (Wesleyan University Press, 1973)
Thomas Merton
Every moment and every event of every man’s life on earth plants something in his soul. — Thomas Merton
Jack Gilbert
Poem For Laura Now come the bright prophets across my life. The solemn fl esh, the miracles, and the pain. Across the simple meadows of my heart, splendidly you come promising sorrow. And knowing, I bless your coming with trees of love, singing, singing even to the night. The princely mornings will fail when you… Continue reading Jack Gilbert
Raymond Carver
My lungs are thick with the smoke of your absence. ― Raymond Carver, Where Water Comes Together with Other Water: Poems. (Vintage; 1 edition, March 12, 1986) Originally published 1984
Robert Bly
“Living” means eating up particles of death ….as a child picks up crumbs from around the table. “Floating” means letting the crumbs fall behind you on ….the path. To live is to rush ahead eating up your own death, ….like an endgate, open, hurrying into the night. — Robert Bly, “To Live,” This Tree Will… Continue reading Robert Bly
David Levithan
I love you— I do— but I am afraid of making that love too important. Because you’re always going to leave me. We can’t deny it. You’re always going to leave. — David Levithan, Every Day. (Knopf Books for Young Readers; 1st Printing edition, 2012)
Charles Bukowski
there is a place in the heart that will never be filled and we will wait and wait in that space. — Charles Bukowski, from “no help for that,” You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense. (Black Sparrow Press,1986)
Anne Carson
To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope. — Anne Carson, Eros: The Bittersweet. (Dalkey Archive Press; 1st Dalkey Archive ed edition, March 1, 1998) Originally published 1986.
Pablo Neruda
You change between teeth and desire into nothing but cool light that loosens into a stream that touched us singing. And thus you don’t weigh us down in the burning siesta hour, you don’t weigh us down, you just go by and your great heart like a cold ember changed into the water of a… Continue reading Pablo Neruda
The Vale of Soul-Making 