Jarod Kintz
If I had no clothes it’d be winter. If I were naked, it’d be the truth and we could lie together. ― Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not For Sale (May 18, 2011)
Category: Classic
Joyce Sidman
Dusk felland the cold came creeping,cam prickling into our hearts.As we tucked beaksinto feathers and settled for sleep,our wings knew. That night, we dreamed the journey:ice-blue sky and the yodel of flight,the sun’s pale wafer,the crisp drink of clouds.We dreamed ourselves so far aloftthat the earth curved beneath usand nothing sang buta whistling vee of… Continue reading Joyce Sidman
Siegfried Sassoon
I did not dread the dark winter as people do when they have lost their youth and live alone in some great city. ― Siegfried Sassoon, Memoirs of a Fox-Hunting Man (Andesite Press, August 8, 2015)
Inga Ābele
It just seems that the whole time you’re living this life, you’re thinking about a different one instead. — Inga Ābele, High Tide (Open Letter Books, 2013)
Victor Hugo
You who suffer because you love, love still more. To die of love, is to live by it. — Victor Hugo, Les Misérables. (A. Lacroix, Verboeckhoven & Cie. 1862)
Linda Hogan
To be heldby the lightwas what I wanted,to be a tree drinking the rain, — Linda Hogan, from “To Be Held,” Dark. Sweet.: New & Selected Poems (Coffee House Press, July 15, 2014)
Markus Zusak
If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter. ― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief (Knopf Books for Young Readers; First edition March 14, 2006)
Norman Dubie
The sunlight passes through the window into the roomWhere you are sewing a button to your blouse: outsideWater in the fountain risesToward a cloud. This plume of water is lighterNow, for white shares of itself are falling backToward the ground.This water does succeed, like us,In nearing a perfect exhaustion,Which is its origin. The water Succeeds… Continue reading Norman Dubie
Ralph Ellison
What and how much had I lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do? ― Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (Vintage International; 2nd edition March 14, 1995) Originally published 1952.
William Saroyan
I do not know what makes a writer, but it probably isn’t happiness. — William Saroyan, The Bicycle Rider in Beverly Hills ( Charles Scribner’s Sons; 1st edition, January 1, 1952)
The Vale of Soul-Making 