I’ve loved everything, I knew how to love everything except the other, the other who was alive. The other has always bothered me; it was a wall against which I broke, I didn’t know how to live with the living. Hence my feeling that I was not a woman but a soul.[…] You simply have… Continue reading Marina Tsvetaeva
I made a tiny hole in the wall with a long nail so that I could watch them screw. Image is what I saw; metaphor is when my tongue caught fire. If it’s the image I wish to employ it is because I want you to stand in my my shoes and make you see… Continue reading Charles Simi
Works of art are of an infinite loneliness … nothing so little to be reached as with criticism. Only love can grasp and hold and be just toward them. — Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet. (Dover Publications May 8, 2002) Originally published 1929.
I wait every year for summer, and it is usually good, but it is never as good as that summer I am always waiting for. — Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters. (Holt Paperbacks; Reprint edition, May 29, 2007)
I cannot capture your grace in words; I am profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity in you. — John Keats, in a letter to Fanny Brawne dated 5 Novemeber 1820
Beauty has no other origin than a wound, unique, different for each person, hidden or visible, that everyone keeps in himself, that he preserves and to which he withdraws when he wants to leave the world for a temporary but profound solitude. – Jean Genet, Fragments of the Artwork. (Stanford University Press; 1 edition, April… Continue reading Jean Genet
If, then, I were asked for the most important advice I could give, that which I considered to be the most useful to the men of our century, I should simply say: in the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you. — Leo Tolstoy, Essays, Letters and Miscellanies. (Wildside Press,… Continue reading Leo Tolstoy