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C.P. Cavafy

Return often and take me, beloved sensation, return and take me — when the memory of the body awakens, and an old desire runs again through the blood; when the lips and the skin remember, and the hands feel as if they touch again. Return often and take me at night, when the lips and… Continue reading C.P. Cavafy

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American Culture · American Literature · Autobiographical · Biographical · Christmas · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fiction · Holiday · Memoir · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Short Stories · Southern Gothic · Southern Literature

Truman Capote

My, how foolish I am! You know what I’ve always thought? I’ve always thought a body would have to be sick and dying before they saw the Lord. And I imagined that when He came it would be like looking at the Baptist window: pretty as colored glass with the sun pouring through, such a… Continue reading Truman Capote

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American Culture · American Literature · Autobiographical · Biographical · Classic · Contemporary · Excerpt · Humor · LGBT · Memoir · Non-fiction · Paraphrase · Passage · Psychology · Queer · Quote

Augusten Burroughs

I’m lonely. And I’m lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic. ― Augusten Burroughs, Dry. (St. Martin’s Press June 2003)

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Autobiographical · Classic · Epistolary · Excerpt · German Culture · German Literature · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Romance · Sturm und Drang Period

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

How often do I lull my seething blood to rest, for you have never seen anything so unsteady, so uncertain, as this heart. — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther. (Weygand’sche Buchhandlung, Leipzig 29 September 1774, revised ed. 1787)

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Autobiographical · Biographical · Classic · Confessional · Diary · Excerpt · Journal · Memoir · Non-fiction · Notebook · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Romanian Culture · Romanian Literature

Eugène Ionesco

The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all…I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it. Just as dreams do, memory makes me profoundly aware of the unreality, the evanescence of the world,… Continue reading Eugène Ionesco

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