In you alone I have found the same swelling of enthusiasm, the same quick rising of the blood, the fullness… Before, I almost used to think there was something wrong. Everybody else seemed to have the brakes on… I never feel the brakes. I overflow. And when I feel your excitement about life flaring, next… Continue reading Anaïs Nin
One thing I know about death is that it touches my psyche and mumbles in her magnificently unknown words; it floats within me and wanders through my bones every day. — Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters. Edited by Lois Ames. (Mariner Books October 1, 2004) Originally published January 1st 1977.
I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel – drained. It is a blank state of mind and soul I cannot describe to you as I think it would not make any difference. — Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait in Letters. (Mariner Books October 1, 2004) Originally published January 1st 1977.
Do not ignore it. Fuck it. Cry your heart out. Then fuck it some more. — Charles Bukowski, Selected Letters Volume 4: 1987-1994. (Virgin Books January 6, 2005)
The realist always falls in love with a girl he has grown up with, the romanticist with a girl from ‘off somewhere. — Robert Frost, The Letters of Robert Frost, Volume 1: 1886 – 1920. (Belknap Press: An Imprint of Harvard University Press; annotated edition edition February 27, 2014)
You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that. — in a letter to her mother as to why she must live alone. Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay by Nancy Milford. (Random House Trade Paperbacks; Reprint edition September 10, 2002)
I do think free will is sewn into everything we do; you can’t cross a street, light a cigarette, drop saccharine in your coffee without really doing it. Yet the possible alternatives that life allows us are very few, often there must be none. I’ve never thought there was any choice for me about writing… Continue reading Robert Lowell