Absence, the highest form of presence. — James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. (Penguin Classics; 1 edition, March 25, 2003) Originally published December 29th 1916. Advertisements
For in me there have always been two fools, among others, one asking nothing better than to stay where he is and the other imagining that life might be slightly less horrible a little further on. — Samuel Beckett, Molloy (Calder, 1966)
I know that I shall meet my fate / Somewhere among the clouds above; / Those that I fight I do not hate / Those that I guard I do not love. ― W. B. Yeats, from “An Irish Airman Foresees His Death,” Macmillan edition of The Wild Swans at Coole (1918/1919)
Snow The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was Spawning snow and pink roses against it Soundlessly collateral and incompatible: World is suddener than we fancy it. World is crazier and more of it than we think, Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion A tangerine and spit the pips and feel The drunkenness… Continue reading Louis Macneice
Love is an immoderate thing And can never be content — W. B. Yeats, from “Deirdre,” The Collected Works of W.B. Yeats Vol II: The Plays. (Scribner, November 27, 2001) Originally published 1934.
I rhymeto see myself, to set the darkness echoing. — Seamus Heaney, from “Personal Helicon,” Death of a Naturalist. (Faber & Faber; New edition edition, 1999)
Love loves to love love. Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. M.B. loves a fair genteman. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alive, the elephant. Old Mr. Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs.… Continue reading James Joyce