…I will exile my thoughts if they think of you again, and I will rip my lips out if they say your name once more. Now if you do exist, I will tell you my final word in life or in death, I tell you goodbye. ― Knut Hamsun, Hunger. (Dover Publications, November 17, 2003)… Continue reading Knut Hamsun
You cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time… ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath. (Anchor; Unabridged edition October 17, 2000)
I cannot capture your grace in words; I am profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity in you. — John Keats, in a letter to Fanny Brawne dated 5 Novemeber 1820
Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn’t have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn’t have to be a walk during which you’ll have multiple life epiphanies… Continue reading Albert Camus
My heart is spilled open; words refuse to bounce and settle. No writing. Everything disappears but the feel of utter equilibrium between fractured echoes. I dig for a name under the shadow of this feeling; the intention is sparkling but I am incapable of disturbing the silence. I am at peace and I wonder not… Continue reading Virginia Woolf
The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul? — Oscar Wilde, De Profundis. (Fontamara, September 12th 1993) Originally published 1905.
No one sings as purely as those who inhabit the deepest hell—what we take to be the song of angels is their song. — Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena. (Schocken; Rev Upd edition April 7, 1990)