Loneliness is like sitting in an empty room and being aware of the space around you. It is acondition of separateness. Solitude is becoming one with the space around you. It is a condition of union. Loneliness is small, solitude is large. Loneliness closes in around you; solitude expands toward the infinite. Loneliness has its… Continue reading Kent Nerburn
The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul? — Oscar Wilde, ”De Profundis,” Originally published: 1905. De Profundis and Other… Continue reading Oscar Wilde
If you looked down to the bottom of my soul, you would understand fully the source of my longing and – pity me. Even the open, transparent lake has its unknown depths, which no divers know. — Hans Christian Andersen, Letter to Edvard Collin in 1835
I would never re-write you. You are by far my most complete and greatest novel. You and your splendor; lingering in my brain across a timelessly barefoot reality. — Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West, 23 November 1926.
…but people like me love only ghosts. If I ever loved a human being–I would soon go to ruin. — Friedrich Nietzsche, from a letter to Franz Overbeck wr. c. October 1883
The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule and deformity, and by these I shall not regulate my proportions; and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the Eyes of the Man of… Continue reading William Blake
…madness is not hysteria. It can be very quiet… – Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters. (Mariner Books, October 1, 2004) Originally published January 1st 1977.
I’ve loved everything, I knew how to love everything except the other, the other who was alive. The other has always bothered me; it was a wall against which I broke, I didn’t know how to live with the living. Hence my feeling that I was not a woman but a soul.[…] You simply have… Continue reading Marina Tsvetaeva
I made a tiny hole in the wall with a long nail so that I could watch them screw. Image is what I saw; metaphor is when my tongue caught fire. If it’s the image I wish to employ it is because I want you to stand in my my shoes and make you see… Continue reading Charles Simi
I cannot capture your grace in words; I am profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity in you. — John Keats, in a letter to Fanny Brawne dated 5 Novemeber 1820