Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me Last night Photo by Shawn Nystrand the rain spoke to me slowly, saying, what joy to come falling out of the brisk cloud… That’s what it said as it dropped, smelling of iron, and vanished… Then it was over. The sky cleared. I was standing under a tree.… Continue reading Mary Oliver
I’ve always loved you, and when you love someone, you love the whole person, just as he or she is, and not as you would like them to be. — Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina. (Norilana Books February 16, 2008) Originally published 1873.
When will this inner night—the universe—end And I—my soul—have my day? When will I wake up from being awake? I don’t know. The sun shines on high And cannot be looked at. The stars coldly blink And cannot be counted. The heart beats aloofly And cannot be heard. When will this drama without theater —Or… Continue reading Fernando Pessoa
And he piled upon the whale’s white hump. A sum of all the rage and hate felt by his own race. If his chest had been a cannon, he would have shot his heart upon it. – Herman Melville, Moby-Dick; or, The Whale. Richard Bentley October 18, 1851 (Britain), Harper & Brothers November 14, 1851… Continue reading Herman Melville
What songs do you love what songs? The ones that speak about love thirst, or about a time that has passed? — Mahmoud Darwish, from “Low Sky,” The Butterfly’s Burden, tr. by Fady Joudah (Copper Canyon Press, 2006)
Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be. — Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959. (Ivan R. Dee; First Edition U.S. edition, April 2, 2008) Originally published 1989. Write
From childhood’s hour I have not beenAs others were—I have not seenAs others saw—I could not bringMy passions from a common spring—From the same source I have not takenMy sorrow—I could not awakenMy heart to joy at the same tone—And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— — Edgar Allan Poe, from “Alone,” American Poetry: The Nineteenth… Continue reading Edgar Allan Poe
As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder. — Leonard Cohen, The Favourite Game. (Vintage; Reprint edition, October 14, 2003)
can our dreams ever blur the intransigent lines which draw the shape that shuts us in? — Sylvia Plath, from “Tale of a Tub,” The Collected Poems (HarperPerennial, 1992)
Beware thoughts that come in the night. They aren’t turned properly; they come in askew, free of sense and restriction, deriving from the most remote of sources. ― William Least Heat-Moon, Blue Highways. (Back Bay Books; 1st Back Bay pbk. ed edition, October 19, 1999)
The Vale of Soul-Making 