If you must suffer, suffer nobly. Love, laugh through your tears, or cry, create and perhaps, perish. —Allen Ginsberg, The Book of Martyrdom and Artifice. (Da Capo Press; Reprint edition February 5, 2008)
The blankets had fallen off and I stared down at her white back, the shoulder blades sticking out as if they wanted to grow into wings, poke through that skin. Little blades. She was helpless. — Charles Bukowski, Post Office. (Black Sparrow Press 1971)
Return often and take me, beloved sensation, return and take me — when the memory of the body awakens, and an old desire runs again through the blood; when the lips and the skin remember, and the hands feel as if they touch again. Return often and take me at night, when the lips and… Continue reading C.P. Cavafy
If you looked down to the bottom of my soul, you would understand fully the source of my longing and – pity me. Even the open, transparent lake has its unknown depths, which no divers know. — Hans Christian Andersen, Letter to Edvard Collin in 1835
I would never re-write you. You are by far my most complete and greatest novel. You and your splendor; lingering in my brain across a timelessly barefoot reality. — Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West, 23 November 1926.
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary. The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God. — Sylvia Plath, from “The Moon and the Yew Tree,” Ariel (Faber and Faber, 1965)
Clouds pass and disperse. / Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? / Is it for such I agitate my heart? — Sylvia Plath, from “Elm,” The Collected Poems (HarperPerennial, 1992)