She was only extemporizing but a stirring warmth flowed from her as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby. (Charles Scribner’s Sons April 10, 1925)
I will break into your thoughtsWith what’s written on my heart — Flyleaf, from “I’m So Sick,” Flyleaf (2006)
I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark. ― Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. (Knopf 1981)
Romance is the sweetening of the soulWith fragrance offered by the stricken heart. ― Wole Soyinka, Lion and the Jewel. [Lakunle] from “Morning.” (Oxford University Press; 1st edition 1962) First first performed in 1959
I still go to bed sometimes and think of the stars and the clouds and all the dirt on all the roads and I try to figure out whether or not we were in love, and whether or not it matters either way. — Samuel James O’Brien, from “Where The Quail’s Eggs Are All For… Continue reading Samuel James O’Brien
The Everlasting Staircase When the call came, saying twenty-four hours to live,my first thought was: can’t she postpone her exit from this planet for a week? I’ve got places to do,people to be. Then grief hit between the ribs, said disappear or reappear more fully. so I boardeda red eyeball and shot across America, hoping… Continue reading Jeffrey McDaniel
Pain is not a punishment, pleasure is not a reward. ― Pema Chödrön, Comfortable with Uncertainty: 108 Teachings on Cultivating Fearlessness and Compassion. (Shambhala December 30, 2003)
our bodies are mostly made of water.I am tired of pouring out. This self, evaporatingas soon as it breaks. — Jane Wong, “Exit Health, Exit Humor,” Fanzine: Poetry 24.10.14.
People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along? Can we get along? Can we stop making it, making it horrible for the older people and the kids? … It’s just not right. It’s not right. It’s not, it’s not going to change anything. [ …] Please, we can get along… Continue reading Rodney King
[…] in that drunken placeyou wouldlike to hand your heart to herand saytouch itbut thengive it back. — Charles Bukowski, from “Purple Glow,” The People Look Like Flowers at Last. (Ecco; First Edition edition March 27, 2007)
The Vale of Soul-Making 