American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Confessional · Excerpt · Fragment · Modernism · Passage · Poetry

Sylvia Plath

I would have killed myself gladly that time any possible way.Now there are these veils, shimmering like curtains, the diaphanous satins of a January windowwhite as babies’ bedding and glittering with dead breath. O ivory! — Sylvia Plath, from “A Birthday Present,” Tne Collected Poems (Turtleback Books, January 1, 1999) Originally published 1981.

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Confessional · Excerpt · Modernism · Passage · Poetry

Sylvia Plath

Electra on Azalea Path The day you died I went into the dirt,Into the lightless hibernaculumWhere bees, striped black and gold, sleep out the blizzardLike hieratic stones, and the ground is hard.It was good for twenty years, that wintering —As if you never existed, as if I cameGod-fathered into the world from my mother’s belly:Her… Continue reading Sylvia Plath

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Charles Bukowski

you will take them to the ocean,to the last mermaid,seaweed and shark, merry whale,end of flesh and hour and horror,and finally they stopand finally you go ontoward your ocean,the cigar biting your lipsthe way loved used to.  — Charles Bukowski, “The Race,” At Terror Street and Agony Way, (Ellipsis London Pr Ltd, January 1, 2000)… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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Autobiographical · Biographical · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Correspondence · Epistolary · Excerpt · German Culture · German Literature · Letter · Non-fiction · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote

Franz Kafka

I have this vision: That I would finally come and find you. Scattered pieces of distance would not stand in my way. Not needing words; the barest of glimpses would suffice for you and me. – Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena (Schocken; Rev Upd edition April 7, 1990)

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Confessional · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fiction · Novel · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Uncategorized

Charles Bukowski

She was desperate and she was choosey at the same time and, in a way, beautiful, but she didn’t have quite enough going for her to become what she imagined herself to be. — Charles Bukowski, Factotumn (‎ Ecco, May 31, 2002) Originally t published 1975.

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British Culture · Confessional · Correspondence · Excerpt · Letter · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Romanticism

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I never find myself alone within the embracement of rocks & hills, a traveller up an alpine road, but my spirit courses, drives, and eddies, like a Leaf in Autumn: a wild activity, of thoughts, imaginations, feelings, and impulses of motion, rises up from within me. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge, from a letter to Thomas… Continue reading Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Charles Bukowski

To give life you must take life,and as our grief falls flat and hollowupon the billion-blooded seaI pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmedwith white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatureslengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrowdid to you; I am old when it is fashionable to beyoung; I cry… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Charles Bukowski

Girl In A Miniskirt Reading The Bible Outside My Window Sunday, I am eating agrapefruit, church is over at the RussianOrthodox to thewest. she is darkof Eastern descent,large brown eyes look up from the Biblethen down. a small red and blackBible, and as she readsher legs keep moving, moving,she is doing a slow rhythmic dancereading… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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Bohemian-Austrian Poet · Classic · Confessional · Correspondence · Epistolary · Essays · Excerpt · German Culture · German Literature · Letter · Memoir · Modernism · Non-fiction · Paraphrase · Passage · Philosophy · Poetics · Quote · Writing

Rainer Maria Rilke

Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love. —  Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet. Sidgwick and Jackson (January 1, 1945)

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