Let my heiress have full rights, Live in my house, sing songs that I composed. Yet how slowly my strength ebbs, How the tortured breast craves air. The love of my friends, my enemies’ rancor And the yellow roses in my bushy garden, And a lover’s burning tenderness—all this I bestow upon you, messenger of… Continue reading Anna Akhmatova
I can see the sun, but even if I cannot see the sun, I know that it exists. And to know that the sun is there – that is living. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux; 12th edition June 14, 2002) Originally published November 1880.
I know that hope is the hardest love we carry. — Jane Hirshfield, from “Hope and Love,” The Lives of the Heart (Harper Perennial, 1997)