Societies never know it, but the war of an artist with his society is a lover’s war, and he does, at his best, what lovers do, which is to reveal the beloved to himself and, with that revelation, to make freedom real. — James Baldwin, “The Creative Process,” Creative America. (The National Cultural Center /… Continue reading James Baldwin
Half of me is filled with bursting words and half of me is painfully shy. I crave solitude yet also crave people. I want to pour life and love into everything yet also nurture my self-care and go gently. I want to live within the rush of primal, intuitive decision, yet also wish to sit… Continue reading Victoria Erickson
Eternity buries itself in smaller things. How desperately I have wished for memories to be eternal, but eternity exists only insofar as it buries itself in smaller things. The photograph will exist longer than I can ever remember its being taken. Even the candle which burns exists longer than my recollection of the candle or… Continue reading Jacqueline Winter Thomas
I have rarely desired an end to my desires. — Kathleen Graber, from “Book Nine” The Eternal City: Poems. (Princeton University Press; 1St Edition edition July 21, 2010)
In the forest a man sits a tree stands high a river runs through his silence. — Ben Wilson (age 10), “In the Forest,” 2014 Rattle Young Poets Anthology.