To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope. — Anne Carson, Eros: The Bittersweet. (Dalkey Archive Press; 1st Dalkey Archive ed edition, March 1, 1998) Originally published 1986. Advertisements
The question is how you rearrange the stars above your head, to open up unexpected paths on the ground beneath your feet. — Brian Holmes, “Guattari’s Schizoanalytic Cartographies” or “The Pathic Core at the Heart of Cybernetics,” Continental Drift.
Writing a novel is a terrible experience, during which the hair often falls out and the teeth decay. I’m always irritated by people who imply that writing fiction is an escape from reality. It is a plunge into reality and it’s very shocking to the system. — Flannery O’Connor, Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose. (Farrar,… Continue reading Flannery O’Connor
Tell me what is there, what is there about you that so satisfies me when I touch you? — Mina Loy, from “Pazzarella,” Stories and Essays of Mina Loy (Dalkey Archive Press, 2011)
Rhythm is a form cut into TIME, as a design is determined SPACE. — Ezra Pound, from “Treatise on Metre,” The Structure of Verse: Modern Essays on Prosody, ed. Harvey Gross (Ecco, 1996) Originally published August 1979.
The mind can’t sleep, can only lie awake and gorge, listening to the snow gather as for some final assault. It wishes Chekhov were here to minister something – three drops of valerian, a glass of rose water – anything, it wouldn’t matter. The mind would like to get out of here onto the snow.… Continue reading Raymond Carver
Merely to say the same thing twice—language is language—how is that supposed to get us anywhere? But we do not want to get anywhere. We would like only, for once, to get just to where we are already. — Martin Heidegger, from “Language,” Poetry, Language, Thought. (Harper Perennial Modern Classics; Later Printing Used edition, December… Continue reading Martin Heidegger