The sky creaks with the plumes of unread poets. — Anna Kamienska, from “In That Great River: A Notebook.” Poetry (June 1st, 2010)
I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and I may share, my Lolita. —Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita. (Olympia Press 1955)
I feel an unhappiness which almost dismembers me, and at the same time am convinced of its necessity. ― Franz Kafka, Diaries of Franz Kafka. (Schocken October 30, 1988) Originally published 1949.
I don’t believe in the next world. The world is one. One reality. Death isn’t a gateway to the next world, maybe just the opening of blind eyes. – Anna Kamienska, from “Industrious Amazement: A Notebook,” Poetry, Mar2011, Vol. 197 Issue 6, p503.
Not only my house, the whole world is such a densely-packed trash heap of things and cultures. How to escape? Into death? But death has its own macabre and cowardly aesthetic—it threatens us with flowers and a tasteful tombstone. The dangerous passion for absolute purity. To evaporate with the atom. Wake up! — Anna Kamienska,… Continue reading Anna Kamienska
Everything that’s ever happened has left its little wound. — Sarah Manguso, Ongoingness: The End of a Diary (Graywolf Press 2015)
And I felt like my heart had been so thoroughly and irreparably broken that there could be no real joy again, that at best there might eventually be a little contentment. Everyone wanted me to get help and rejoin life, pick up the pieces and move on, and I tried to, I wanted to, but… Continue reading Anne Lamott