A process in the weather of the heart A process in the weather of the heartTurns damp to dry; the golden shotStorms in the freezing tomb.A weather in the quarter of the veinsTurns night to day; blood in their sunsLights up the living worm. A process in the eye forwarnsThe bones of blindness; and the… Continue reading Dylan Thomas
My tears are like the quiet driftOf petals from some magic rose;And all my grief flows from the riftOf unremembered skies and snows. I think, that if I touched the earth,It would crumble;It is so sad and beautiful,So tremulously like a dream. — Dylan Thomas, “Clown in the Moon,” The Poems of Dylan Thomas. (New… Continue reading Dylan Thomas
And isn’t the whole point of things–beautiful things–that they connect you to some larger beauty? Those first images that crack your heart wide open and you spend the rest of your life chasing, or trying to recapture, in one way or another? — Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch (Little, Brown & Co., 2013)
…I will exile my thoughts if they think of you again, and I will rip my lips out if they say your name once more. Now if you do exist, I will tell you my final word in life or in death, I tell you goodbye. ― Knut Hamsun, Hunger. (Dover Publications, November 17, 2003)
We can catch buses and count our change and cross the roads and talk real sentences. But our innocence goes awfully deep, and our discreditable secret is that we don’t know anything at all, and our horrid inner secret is that we don’t care that we don’t. — Dylan Thomas
Poem in October It was my thirtieth year to heaven Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood And the mussel pooled and the heron Priested shore The morning beckon With water praying and call of seagull and rook And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall… Continue reading Dylan Thomas
And I rose In rainy autumn And walked abroad in a shower of all my days. — Dylan Thomas, from “Poem in October,” Collected Poems. (W W Norton & Co Inc June 1971) Originally published 1952.
Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat On the silent sea we have heard the sound That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet. Under the mile off moon we trembled listening To the sea sound flowing like blood… Continue reading Dylan Thomas
And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last I may without fail Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars. — Dylan Thomas, from “Love in the Asylum,” The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas: The Original Edition. (New Directions (April 23, 2010) Originally published 1953.
The Vale of Soul-Making 