Everything measurable passes, everything that can be counted has an end. Only three things are infinite: the sky in its stars, the sea in its drops of water, and the heart in its tears. ― Gustave Flaubert, The Letters of Gustave Flaubert, 1830-1857. (Belknap Press: An Imprint of Harvard University Press; First Edition (US) First… Continue reading Gustave Flaubert
It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation…. Loving does not at first… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke
I must roll another cigarette and watch the blue smoke curl and curl and curl and let myself feel good for a few moments. I never used to let myself feel too good. Now, for some reason, I feel like I deserve to feel good. — Charles Bukowski, from a letter to Carl Weissner, Screams… Continue reading Charles Bukowski
Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me; try to discern the doe in me, trembling in the forest of my own iniquity; let’s even smile a little. After all, there is no harm in smiling. ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita. (Olympia Press 1955)
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
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.
No one sings as purely as those who inhabit the deepest hell—what we take to be the song of angels is their song. — Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena. (Schocken; Rev Upd edition April 7, 1990)