Survival is insufficient. — Emily St. John Mandel, Station Eleven. (Knopf; First Edition edition September 9, 2014)
When You’re Not Here and When You Are Waking early, alone, I crave the ripening hay in your field, the smell of weeds tangled in brine, and along the inland road, honeysuckle, sharp as juice sucked from raw crabs by the cove. Oh, the fine wet inside of your flowers in your field after rain.… Continue reading Carole Glasser Langille
There is always more than you know. There are always boxes put away in the cellar, worn shoes and cherished pictures, notes you find later, sheet music you can’t play. — Margaret Atwood, from “Dancing,” Morning in the Burned House. (Mariner Books; Reprint edition September 16, 1996)
Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. Solid flesh can never live up to the bright shadow cast by its absence. – Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin. (Virago Press Ltd; New Ed edition May 19, 2001)
I could lie around all day wanting the brush of your lips. Between your lips, the dark field meets a night sky. I am inside each ragged breath and the pause between. — Carole Glasser Langille, from “When You’re Not Here and When You Are,” Late in a Slow Time (Mansfield Press, 2003)
There’s kind of a hole in most of us. It’s in the approximate shape of a soul. — Stephen Jenkinson, Griefwalker (2008) Directed by Tim Wilson. Screenplay by Tim Wilson. Produced by Annette Clarke for the National Film Board of Canada.
A love story is not about those who lose their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when it is stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing— not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past.… Continue reading Michael Ondaatje