The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lover loved and went. And what the poets said in rhyme, the young translated into practice. ― Virginia Woolf, Orlando. (Penguin Classic; Abridged edition, October 3, 2000) Originally published October 11th 1928.
I went into the desert to forget about you. But the sand was the color of your hair. The desert sky was the color of your eyes. There was nowhere I could go that wouldn’t be you. — Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2003)
Fear knocked at the door and faith answered. No one was there. — Anonymous. Found in an English pub after one of the many London bombings by Hitler during World War II.
Learn to live by knowing how to live and let live. Never take anything in life but flowers, and from flowers, only the perfume… — Émilie Carles, A Life of her Own: The Transformation of a Countrywoman in Twentieth-Century France, translation by Avriel H. Goldberger. (Penguin Books; Reprint edition June 1, 1992) Originally published January… Continue reading Émilie Carles
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never… Continue reading Arundhati Roy
This is how I recognize an authentic poet: by frequenting him, living a long time in the intimacy of his work, something changes in myself, not so much my inclinations or my tastes as my very blood, as if a subtle disease had been injected to alter its course, its density and nature. To live… Continue reading Emil Cioran
Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere. ― Isabelle Eberhardt, The Nomad: The Diaries of Isabelle Eberhardt. (Interlink Pub Group; Trade Paperback Edition edition May 1, 2003) Originally published 1987.