Truly fine poetry must be read aloud. A good poem does not allow itself to be read in a low voice or silently. If we can read it silently, it is not a valid poem: a poem demands pronunciation. Poetry always remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art. It… Continue reading Jorge Luis Borges
There is something divine in mindless beauty. ― Albert Camus, A Happy Death. (Penguin Books, Limited (UK) February 28, 2002) Originally published 1971.
Tell me, is the rose naked or is that her only dress? Why do trees conceal the splendor of their roots? Who hears the regrets of the thieving automobile? Is there anything in the world sadder than a train standing in the rain? — Pablo Neruda, “III,” The Book of Questions. Translated by William O’Daly.… Continue reading Pablo Neruda
Poetry remakes and prolongs language; every poetic language begins by being a secret language, that is, the creation of a personal universe, of a completely closed world. The purest poetic act seems to re-create language from an inner experience that … reveals the essence of things. — Mircea Eliade, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy. (Princeton… Continue reading Mircea Eliade
The dying sun will glow on you without burning, as it has done today. The wind will be soft and mellow and your hilltop will tremble. As you reach the end of your dance you will look at the sun, for you will never see it again in waking or in dreaming, and then your… Continue reading Carlos Castaneda
For even if there were no God, we should nonetheless be capable of truth, if only it remained possible for us to exist. — Gottfried Leibniz
The world has become lovelier. I am alone, and I don’t suffer from my loneliness. I don’t want life to be anything other than what it is. — Hermann Hesse, from “Mountain Pass,” Wandering. (Jonathan Cape Ltd November 2, 1972)