Ancient · Ancient Culture · Ancient Literature · Classical · Greek Culture · Greek Literature · Paraphrase · Quote


I’m in love with people’s hands and the way they clench their fists and the way their fingertips lightly press down onto piano keys or thighs. Calloused fingers or dainty fingers. Hands writing poems or memos or parking tickets. Hands writing futures. To me, every crease on the palm is a love line. — Mesogeios… Continue reading Mesogeios

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Anthology · British Culture · Classic · Collection · Compilation · English Literature · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry · Romanticism

William Wordsworth

To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. — William Wordsworth, from “Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.” The Oxford Book of English Verse 1250–1918. Editor: Arthur Quiller-Couch. (Oxford University Press March 26, 1963)

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32nd President of the United States · American History · American Politics · History · Inaugural Address · Inspirational · Motivational · Politician · Politics

Franklin D. Roosevelt

So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is…fear itself — nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance. In every dark hour of our national life a leadership of frankness and of vigor has met with that understanding and… Continue reading Franklin D. Roosevelt

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Austrian Culture · Austrian Literature · Bohemian-Austrian Poet · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Fragment · Inspirational · Modernism · Motivational · Passage · Poetry · Spiritual

Rainer Maria Rilke

this much belongs to us, to touch each other thus; the gods can grip us more forcefully. The choice is theirs. — Rainer Maria Rilke, from “The Second Elegy,” Duino Elegies, transl. by Edward Snow (North Point Press, 2001)

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Argentine Culture · Argentine Literature · Contemporary · Online Magazine · Online Review · Periodical · Poetry

Alejandra Pizarnik

I. The powers of language are the solitary ladies who sing, desolate, with this voice of mine that I hear from a distance. And far away, in the black sand, lies a girl heavy with ancestral music. Where is death itself? I have wanted clarity in light of my lack of light. Branches die in… Continue reading Alejandra Pizarnik

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Canadian Culture · Canadian Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry

Anne Michaels

The Weight of Oranges My cup’s the same sand colour as bread. Rain’s the same colour of a building across the street, its torn red dahlias and ruined a book propped on the sill. Rain articulates the skins of everything, pink of bricks from the fire they baked in, lizard green leaves, the wrinkled tongues… Continue reading Anne Michaels

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