The scene is memory and is therefore non-realistic. Memory takes a lot of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart. — Tennessee Williams comments about the concept of his “memory play,” The Glass Menagerie, which… Continue reading Tennessee Williams
I am the wound and the knife! I am the slap and the cheek! I am the limbs and the rack, And the victim and the executioner! I am the vampire of my own heart. — Charles Baudelaire, from “The Self-Tormentor,” Fleurs du mal / Flowers of Evil. (Published by Auguste Poulet-Malassis 1857)
It has become necessary for me to have this woman, so as to save myself from the ridicule of being in love with her: for to what lengths will a man not be driven by thwarted desire? ― Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, Les Liaisons Dangereuses. (Durand Neveu March 23, 1782)
Aubade Waking, I find a still form, a bird whose aim was to sweep past our sleeping faces, to be that glorious gust, or trumpet spurt of dawn, and not this lidless eye upturned below our window. I kneel and slide my fingers under fading warmth. A limp, soft sparrow. Scaly talons clutched as I… Continue reading Derek Sheffield
I would rather be ashes than dust; I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dryrot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live,… Continue reading Jack London
When there is love, the world is conquered by lovers. All the better for us: we are enriched by their radiance. Their happiness makes the air purer. A poem incarnate. It is beyond criticism. It defies explanation. That defiance is the nature of the poem. — Édouard Boubat, Notebooks, 1998
We got quiet. The garden was combing her hair and putting on earrings. The house was full of dancing creatures, not male and female but both, two lovers in one body. The books downstairs were reciting their poetry to each other, rubbing together, whispering through the leather covers. Wine was flowing through the water pipes.… Continue reading Francesca Lia Block
The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction the weight,the weight we carry is love. — Allen Ginsberg, from “Song,” Collected Poems 1947-1980. (Harper Perennial; Reprint edition June 7, 1988)
Belief, like fear or love, is a force to be understood as we understand the theory of relativity and principals of uncertainty. Phenomena that determine the course of our lives. Yesterday, my life was headed in one direction. Today, it is headed in another. Yesterday, I believe I would never have done what I did… Continue reading David Mitchel
He who learns must suffer And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget Falls drop by drop upon the heart, And in our own despite, against our will, Comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. ― Aeschylus, The Orestei. 458 BCE
The Vale of Soul-Making 