This is our world, lit with crescents and stars of light; and great petals half transparent block the openings like purple windows. Everything is strange. Things are huge and very small. The stalks of flowers are thick as oak trees. Leaves are high as the domes of vast cathedrals. We are giants, lying here, who… Continue reading Virginia Woolf
i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you — E. E. Cummings, from “i carry your heart with me,” Complete Poems: 1904-1962 (Liveright Publishing Corporation,… Continue reading E. E. Cummings
Dog-tired If she would come to me here Now the sunken swaths Are glittering paths To the sun, and the swallows cut clear Into the setting sun! if she came to me here! If she would come to me now, Before the last-mown harebells are dead; While that vetch-clump still burns red! Before all the… Continue reading D. H. Lawrence
This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper. — T. S. Eliot, from “The Hollow Man” (1925) Found in Collected Poems, 1909-1962. (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich; 1st edition, September 25, 1991) Originally published 1963.
in Spring comes(no- one asks his name) a mender of things with eager fingers(with patient eyes)… — E. E. Cummings, from “Spring,” Selected Poems. (Liveright; New Ed edition, 12 Oct. 1994)
Romance Sonambulo Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea and the horse on the mountain. With the shade around her waist she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver. Green, how I want you green. Under the gypsy moon,… Continue reading Federico García Lorca
She naturally loved solitary places, vast views, and to feel herself for ever and ever and ever alone. — Virginia Woolf, Orlando. (Penguin Classic; Abridged edition, October 3, 2000) Originally published October 11th 1928.