She had seen fear: the terrible helpless fear that rises up out of sadness and despair and is no longer attached to anything— the helpless fear that is tied only to nothingness. Not fear or anxiety or despair about a person or a situation, nothing, nothing, only the exposure, the vulnerability, being cast loose from… Continue reading Hans Keilson
Survival is insufficient. — Emily St. John Mandel, Station Eleven. (Knopf; First Edition edition September 9, 2014)
Letting my sorrow flow free and sweet. — Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time Volume 2: In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower or Within a Budding Grave (Penguin Classics; Reprint edition January 25, 2005) Originally published 1919.
Grief is desire in its purest distillation. With the first grave — the first time a name was sown in the earth — the invention of memory. — Anne Michaels, The Winter Vault. (Knopf; 1st edition April 21, 2009)
Courage, dear heart. ― C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. (Zondervan September 1, 2006) Originally published 1951.
Memory fades, memory adjusts, memory conforms to what we think we remember. ― Joan Didion, Blue Nights. (Knopf; First Edition edition November 1, 2011)
Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. — James Joyce from “Araby,” Dubliners (Grant Richards Ltd., 1914)