I carry Sorrow, a grey bird, sluggish, in my chest. — Osip Mandelstam, from “Light Sheds it’s Meager Ray,” The Selected Poems. (NYRB Classics; 1st edition, August 31, 2004) Originally published 1972. Advertisements
The only way of knowing a person is to love them without hope. —Walter Benjamin
They tell me I am going to die. Why don’t I seem to care? My cup is full. Let it spill — Robert Friend, “My Cup,” Dancing with a Tiger: Poems 1941-1998. (Menard Press August 5, 2008) Originally published September 15th 2003.
Faith is not a question of the existence or non-existence of God. It is believing that love without reward is valuable. — Emmanuel Levinas
Waiting is erotic. — Irène Némirovsky, Suite Française. (Vintage; Reprint edition April 10, 2007)
Only the edges go on like this, long into dusk, the soul drains us in seconds. And the nothing that’s left, and the no more hope, and what I wouldn’t kill off or trade away, fuck over, dismiss, make a joke of, this failure of solitude, my own dark standing alone in the dark hand… Continue reading Ralph Angel
I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live. ― Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. (Houghton Mifflin 1 April 2005 1st edition)