The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all…I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it. Just as dreams do, memory makes me profoundly aware of the unreality, the evanescence of the world,… Continue reading Eugène Ionesco
I want to be able to be alone, to find it nourishing – not just a waiting. — Susan Sontag, Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963. (Picador October 27, 2009)
I carry death in my left pocket. Sometimes I take it out and talk to it: “Hello, baby, how you doing? When you coming for me? I’ll be ready. — Charles Bukowski, The captain is out to lunch and the sailors have taken over the ship. Illustrated by Robert Crumb. (Ecco; 1st edition May 31,… Continue reading Charles Bukowski
The gods were here first, and they’re bigger. They always were, and always will be living it up in their father’s mansion. You only crawled from the drain a few millenia ago, after inventing legs for yourself so you could stand, inventing fists in order to raise them and curse the heavens. Do the gods… Continue reading Kim Addonizio
This is how I want to die: into that rushing beast of the night, sucked up by that great dragon, to split from my life with no flag, no belly, no cry. — Anne Sexton, from “The Starry Night,” The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton. (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1981)
I want to resemble a sort of liquid light which stretches beyond visibility or invisibility. Tonight I wish to have the valor and daring to belong to the moon. —Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary. (Mariner Books; First edition, March 31, 2003) Originally published 1953.
I’ve typed myself into a fine nostalgia. — Elizabeth Bishop, letter to Robert Lowell, 14 December 1957, Words in Air: The Complete Correspondence Between Elizabeth Bishop and Robert Lowell (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2008)