Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them. ― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations. (Penguin Classics, October 31, 2006) Originally published 180 C.E Advertisements
When he uncovers fiddleheads by the spring, why does he always think of that first sight of her thigh in the peach-colored dress, of his hand’s searching moss with its red-gold stamens, the spring in that arid landscape like something from Canaan under his tongue? — Mary Rose O’Reilley, from “The Abandoned Farm,” Poetry (2007)
When you get too much of the world on you that which is natural in you starts to struggle. — Frank LaRue Owen, from “Weather Report,” The School of Soft-Attention (Homebound Publications, 2018)
The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality. — T. S. Eliot, from “Tradition and Individual Talent,” The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism (Routledge, 1989)
Isn’t it sad that some loves are better on paper? — Lara Egger, from “Because There’s No Emoji for Memory,” Salt Hill (no. 41, 2019)
Solitude gives birth to the original in us, to beauty unfamiliar and perilous – to poetry. But also, it gives birth to the opposite: to the perverse, the illicit, the absurd. ― Thomas Mann, Death in Venice and Other Tales. (Penguin Classics, May 1, 1999) Originally published 1911.
Now in midsummer come and all fools slaughtered And spring’s infuriations over and a long way To the first autumnal inhalations, young broods Are in the grass, the roses are heavy with a weight Of fragrance and the mind lays by its trouble. — Wallace Stevens, from “Credences of Summer,” The Collected Poems of Wallace… Continue reading Wallace Stevens