I’m all these words, all these strangers, this dust of words, with no ground for their settling, no sky for their dispersing, coming together to say, fleeing one another to say, that I am they, all of them, those that merge, those that part, those that never meet, and nothing else, yes, something else, that… Continue reading Samuel Beckett
I am worn out with dreams; — W. B. Yeats, from “Men Improve with the Years,” The Wild Swans At Coole. (Kessinger Publishing, LLC, June 17, 2004) Originally published 1919.
I know the old season is almost over, and I almost love my own shadow again– — Eamon Grennan, from “In Late February,” Relations: New & Selected Poems (Graywolf Press, 1998)
How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; — W. B. Yeats, from “When You Are Old,” The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats. Edited by Richard J. Finneran, (Scribner,… Continue reading W. B. Yeats
Where the world ends The mind is made unchanging, for it finds Miracle, ecstasy, the impossible hope, The flagstone under all, the fire of fires, The roots of the world– — W. B. Yeats, from The Shadowy Waters: A Dramatic Poem. (Kessinger Publishing, LLC, June 17, 2004) Originally published 1900.
And I shall resemble the wretches famed in fable, crushed beneath the weight of their wish come true. And I even feel a strange desire come over me, the desire to know what I am doing, and why. So I near the goal I set myself in my young days and which prevented me from… Continue reading Samuel Beckett
It is better to adopt the simplest explanation, even if it is not simple, even if it does not explain very much. A bright light is not necessary, a taper is all one needs to live in strangeness, if it faithfully burns. — Samuel Beckett, Malone Dies. (Grove Pr, February 1978) Originally published 1951.