Oh, the land of nights we have never lived: meadows where we were a flicker of movement on the road, something running, running, through the shadow … — Pablo NerudaPablo Neruda, from “Ode to a Sleeping House,” Selected Odes of Pablo Neruda (California Press, 1990)
I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while. — Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman. (Knopf; First Edition edition August 29, 2006)
There isn’t enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance, prevails. — Raymond Carver, from “The Author of Her Misfortune,” All of Us: The Collected Poems. (Vintage; Reprint edition, April 4, 1996) Originally published 1988.
Good-night, sweet princess. You are still on your own; be stoic; don’t panic; get through this hell to the generous sweet overflowing giving love of spring. — Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath. (Anchor; Unabridged edition October 17, 2000)