There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October. The sunshine is peculiarly genial; and in sheltered places, as on the side of a bank, or of a barn or house, one becomes acquainted and friendly with… Continue reading Nathaniel Hawthorne
We’re unprepared for our little disappointments. Normally I might not pay attention to sunlight pouring into the courtyard but this afternoon, I do — probably because it’s already nearly gone. None of us mentions the night, but I, for one, would like to be expecting it, when it comes. — Nathan McClain, from “Power Outage… Continue reading Nathan McClain
Everything that happens before Death is what counts. ― Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes. (Avon; Reprint edition, March 1, 1998) Originally published 1962.
I am listening to the rustle of your long black dress On the telephone last night as you pulled it up A thousand miles away. Someone could have walked in. The husky hush of your voice. Raise your evening gown for me forever. — Frederick Seidel, from “Early Sunday Morning in the Cher,” These Days… Continue reading Frederick Seidel
Having the equilibrium of a poet, I kept falling in love. — Frank Stanford, from “With the Approach of the Oak the Axeman Quakes,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank Stanford (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)
Alliance (Sonata) Of dusty glances fallen to the ground or of soundless leaves burying themselves. Of metals without light, with the emptiness, with the absence of the suddenly dead day. At the tip of the hands the dazzlement of butterflies, the upflight of butterflies whose light has no end. You kept the trail of light,… Continue reading Pablo Neruda
If the art of war were nothing but the art of avoiding risks, glory would become the prey of mediocre minds…. I have made all the calculations; fate will do the rest. ― Napoléon Bonaparte
And then It’s just too beautiful. Don’t say a word. –A boulevard without traffic or trade, Every drama muted, every comedy stilled, An infinite collection of scenes. I know you, and stare at you in silence. —Arthur Rimbaud, Rimbaud Complete, Volume 1. (Modern Library; Reprint edition, January 14, 2003)
Tell me how you want to die, and I’ll tell you who you are. ― Emil M. Cioran, Tears and Saints. (University of Chicago Press; Reprint edition, July 6, 1998) Originally published 1937.
How invisibly it changes color in this world, the flower of the human heart. — Ono no Komachi, The Ink Dark Moon: Love Poems by Ono No Komachi and Izumi Shikibu Women of the Ancient Court of Japan, trans. Jane Hirshfield. (Scribner, 1988)