There are thoughts which are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees. — Victor Hugo, Les Misérables. (A. Lacroix, Verboeckhoven & Cie. 1862) Advertisements
Here, the walls are made of moon and stars, and each breath is mingled with tender coolness like a shiver from lips to lips. — Pauline Albanese, The Closed Doors. (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform; 1 edition, October 3, 2015)
How can another see into me, into my most secret self, without my being able to see in there myself? And without my being able to see him in me. And if my secret self, that which can be revealed only to the other, to the wholly other, to God if you wish, is a… Continue reading Jacques Derrida
A poem, being an instance of language, hence essentially dialogue, may be a letter in a bottle thrown out to the sea with the—surely not always strong—hope that it may somehow wash up somewhere, perhaps on the shoreline of the heart. In this way, too, poems are en route: they are headed towards. Toward what?… Continue reading Paul Celan
…what am I if not a ray from some long-dead star? […] dying in the flames of excessive potentiality? — George Bataille, Guilty. (Lapis Pr, October 1, 1988) Originally published 1944.
So gather me up, dear, fold me to your heart – and you’ll see how nice I can be. — Jean-Paul Sartre, from “No Exit,” No Exit and Three Other Plays. (Vintage; Reissue edition, October 23, 1989) Originally published 1947.
To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life. — Victor Hugo, Les Misérables. (A. Lacroix, Verboeckhoven & Cie. 1862)