The sound of wind in leaves,that was what puzzled me, it took me yearsto understand that it was music.Into silence, a gesture.A sentence: that it speaks.This is the mystery: meaning.Not that these folds of rock existbut that their beauty, here,now, nails us to the sky. — Jan Zwicky, from “The Geology of Norway,” The Harvard… Continue reading Jan Zwicky
For those who prefer the lengthened twilights of summer, the afternoon dark carries with it a sense of gloom, a lethargy, a melancholy, a despair. — Nina MacLaughlin, from “The Dark Feels Different in November” , The Paris Review Nov 8, 2017
And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong, to measure yourself at least once, to find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing blind, deaf stone alone, with nothing to help you but your own hands and your own… Continue reading Primo Levi
I don’t remember words, conversations or where we’d go, if we went anywhere. I do recall your missing smile and imagine that it is still on the loose. You may never find it, though I have suspicions you are keeping it bound in a box behind the sofa […] Maybe you even look at it,… Continue reading E.V. Noechel
Alone, very alone on a line — a line of poetry. — Jacques Derrida, Schibboleth: pour Paul Cela. (Editions Galilée, 1986)
It is possible, of course, that I may exaggerate about them. I certainly hope that I do; for where there is no exaggeration there is no love, and where there is no love there is no understanding. It is only about things that do not interest one, that one can give a really unbiassed opinion;… Continue reading Oscar Wilde
The Vale of Soul-Making 