Summer? My memory flutters — had I — was there a summer? — Emily Dickinson, from a letter to J. G. Holland, The Letters of Emily Dickinson. Edited by Mabel Loomis Todd ( (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, September 28, 2015)
Diaries are very futile. I must be all dream or all deed. It is quite impossible for me to express any of the beauty I feel to half the degree I feel it; and yet it is a great pleasure to seize an impression and lock it up in words: you feel as if you… Continue reading Wallace Stevens
…I have a feeling of being at home when I am with Sien, a feeling that she gives me my own hearth, that our lives are interwoven. This is a heartfelt, deep feeling, serious, and not without a dark shadow of her gloomy past and mine, as if some evil threatened us, against which we… Continue reading Vincent van Gogh
I am not well; I could have built the Pyramids with the effort it takes me to cling on to life and reason. — Franz Kafka, Letters To Felice. ( Schocken; Pbk ed. edition December 6, 2016) Originally published 1967.
Writing. It is like no other light. A very clear and hollow light. — Ernest Hemingway, from a letter to Bernard Berenson, Selected Letters: 1917-1961 (Scribner, 2003)
I am proud of my heart alone, it is the sole source of everything, all our strength, happiness and misery. All the knowledge I possess everyone else can acquire, but my heart is all my own. ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther. (Modern Library; Reprint edition, February 8, 2005) Originally published… Continue reading Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the imagination. What imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth. — John Keats, Letters of John Keats to His Family and Friends. (Sagwan Press, August 22, 2015) Originally published January 10th 2008.