The old summer’s-end melancholy nips at my heels. There’s no school to go back to; no detail of my life will change come the onset of September; yet still, I feel the old trepidation. ― Sara Baume, A Line Made by Walking. (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt; First American Edition edition, April 18, 2017) Advertisements
The wind blows hard among the pines Toward the beginning Of an endless past. Listen: you’ve heard everything. — Lucien Stryk, “Wind Among The Pines,” Where We Are: Selected Poems and Zen Translations (Skoob Books, 1997)
There’s no lack of void. — Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot. . (Grove Press; 1 edition, May 17, 2011) Originally published 1952. Premiered 5 January 1953 at theThéâtre de Babylone, Paris France.