You can be lonely anywhere, but there is a particular flavour to the loneliness that comes from living in a city, surrounded by millions of people. ― Olivia Laing, The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone. (Picador, 2016)
Your head has dissolved into thin air and I can see the rhododendrons through your stomach. It’s not that you are dead or anything dramatic like that, it is simply that you are fading away and I can’t even remember your name. — Leonora Carrington, The Hearing Trumpet. (Exact Change; 1ST edition, February 2, 2004)… Continue reading Leonora Carrington
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow, and I am in them, and this is eternity. — Edvard Munch
When people are ready to, they change. They never do it before then, and sometimes they die before they get around to it. You can’t make them change if they don’t want to, just like when they do want to, you can’t stop them. — Andy Warhol, Andy Warhol in His Own Words. (Omnibus Press,… Continue reading Andy Warhol
How to measure a season against the calendar of your absence? — John Berger, from “Once in the Highlands,” And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos (Bloomsbury Publishing PLC, 1982)
Taste redness, smell lulling white winds, look at it in the universe: sun. Gaze at stars yellow and glittering till you feel good and have to shut out the blinking. Brainworlds sparkle in your caves. — Egon Schiele, from “sun,” Ich ewiges Kind (I, Eternal Child). Gedichte, Vienna/Munich (2) 1985. p. 24
There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the infinite passion of life. — Federico Fellini, Fellini on Fellini. (Da Capo Press, March 22, 1996) Originally published January 1st 1976.