A Woman Waits For Me A WOMAN waits for me—she contains all, nothing is lacking, Yet all were lacking, if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the right man were lacking. Sex contains all, Bodies, Souls, meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations, Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk; All… Continue reading Walt Whitman
The first blush of love, when the self has lost its mooring, and, half-drowning, succumbs to a fearful tide. ― Eleanor Catton, The Luminaries, (Little, Brown and Company; First Edition edition, October 15, 2013)
There were many winters but I closed my eyes The cold air white with dissolved wings There was one garden when the snow melted Azure and white; I couldn’t tell my solitude from love— — Louise Glück, from “Aubade,” Poems 1962-2012 (Farrar, Straus and Giroux; First Edition edition, November 13, 2012)
Out of the hobbled spirit of attachment, and the insecure need of belonging, come the gross judgments against those who do not belong. ― Bryant McGill, Voice of Reason. (Paper Lyon Publishing, August 17, 2012)
He dreams of white lilies, an olive branch, her breasts in evening blossom. He dreams of a bird, he tells me, of lemon flowers. — Mahmoud Darwish, from “A Soldier Dreams Of White Lilies,” Unfortunately, It Was Paradise, translated and edited by Munir Akash and Carolyn Forché (University of California Press, 2003)
The path to my fixed purpose is hid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. — Herman Melville, Moby-Dick or The Whale (Modern Library, 1992, originally published by Harper & Brothers, 1851)
And I want it simple, a small breath filling the world with tremendous music. Among fields of shocked corn you are stepping into your car. Stranger, my love, you really are. Place your hands on my chest. You can trust me. See, they go right through. — Ralph Angel, from “Among Fields of Shocked Corn,”… Continue reading Ralph Angel
I think that one of these days you’re going to have to find out where you want to go. And then you’ve got to start going there. — J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye. (Back Bay Books; Reissue edition January 30, 2001) Originally published 1951.
When from our better selves we have too long Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop, Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, How gracious, how benign, is Solitude; — William Wordsworth, from “The Prelude.” Norton; 1st edition (1979) Originally published 1800.
Don’t despair: despair suggests you are in total control and know what is coming. You don’t – surrender to events with hope. ― Alain de Botton