Outside, the sun arises from its cradle in the tree-tops of the forest. Shadows of pines are dreams the sun shakes from its eyes. The sun arises. Gold-glowing child, it steps into the sky and sends a birth-song slanting down gray dust streets and sleepy windows of the southern town. – Jean Toomer, from “Kabnis,”… Continue reading Jean Toomer
[The curve of your eyes] La courbe de tes yeux fait le tour de mon coeur,Un rond de danse et de douceur,Auréole du temps, berceau nocturne et sûr,Et si je ne sais plus tout ce que j’ai vécuC’est que tes yeux ne m’ont pas toujours vu. Feuilles de jour et mousse de rosée,Roseaux du vent,… Continue reading Paul Éluard
On each blue scrap of noonOn the pond moldy sunOn the lake living moonI write your name On the sky on the meadowsOn the wings of birdsOn the millwheel of shadowsI write your name — Paul Éluard, from “Liberty,” Poetry (October 1945)
In other words, or perhaps another thing, whatever I said it was never enough and always too much. Yes, ― Samuel Beckett, Moll oy, Malone Dies, The Unnamable (Everyman’s Library, September 16, 1997) Originally published 1958
For he who has once had to listen will listen always, whether he knows he will never hear anything again, or whether he does not. In other words, they like other words, no doubt about it, silence once broken will never again be whole. — Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable (Grove Press, March 1, 1978) Originally… Continue reading Samuel Beckett
What do we do now, now that we are happy? — Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot. (Grove Press; 1 edition, May 17, 2011) Originally published 1952. Premiered 5 January 1953 at theThéâtre de Babylone, Paris France.
The curve of your eyes goes around my heart — Paul Éluard
Black is modest and arrogant at the same time. Black is lazy and easy – but mysterious. But above all black says this: ‘I don’t bother you – don’t bother me.’ ― Yohji Yamamoto
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better. — Samuel Beckett, Worstward Ho, (Grove Press; 1st edition, January 1, 1983) Originally t published 1983.
Even when we sleep we watch over each otherAnd this love heavier than a lake’s ripe fruitWithout laughter or tears lasts foreverOne day after another one night after us. — Paul Éluard, “Even When We Sleep” Unknown Soure
The Vale of Soul-Making 