Nevertheless, I can tell you that you will awake someday to find that your life has rushed by at a speed at once impossible and cruel. The most intense moments will seem to have occurred only yesterday and nothing will have erased the pain and pleasure, the impossible intensity of love and its dog-leaping happiness,… Continue reading Meg Rosoff
We touched with a softness that pushed through the skin into memory, like arms plunged into a river — we could feel the weight of each other’s stones. — Simon van Booy, from “Conception,” The Secret Lives of People in Love: Stories. (Turtle Point Press; First Edition edition, May 1, 2007)
My brain’s a film, I’m made of timed exposures, And pounding my ears and eyes with waves of light— These animate flakes, these pictures I call sight. But now you’re out of the picture, no one can keep Coherent sightings of you, except in language. — Anne Stevenson, from “Elegy: In Coherent Light,” Poetry (July/August… Continue reading Anne Stevenson
But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin. ― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World. (Harper Perennial Modern Classics 1998) Originally published 1932.
Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn’t nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness… Continue reading Aldous Huxley
Or, to believe it’s there within you though the key’s missing makes it enough? — Denise Levertov, from “Kingdoms of Heaven,” Poems, 1960-1967 (New Directions; First Edition edition, May 17, 1983)
The more powerful and original a mind, the more it will incline towards the religion of solitude. — Aldous Huxley, Proper Studies. (Chatto & Windus; Collected ed edition, December 1949) Originally published 1927.