What’s genius? I don’t know but I do know that the difference between a madman and a professional is that a pro does as well as he can within what he has set out to do and a madman does exceptionally well at what he can’t help doing. — Charles Bukowski, What Matters Most Is… Continue reading Charles Bukowski
Death is the veil which those who live call life; They sleep, and it is lifted. — Percy Bysshe Shelley, Prometheus Unbound. (Kessinger Publishing, LLC, June 17, 2004) Originally published 1820.
I have to tell you what I’ve learned, that I know now what happens to the dreamers. They don’t feel it when they change. One day they wake, they dress, they are old. — Louise Glück, from “Marathon,” The Triumph of Achilles. (Ecco Pr; First Edition edition, May 1987) Originally published 1985.
What are days for? Days are where we live. — Philip Larkin, from “Days,” The Whitsun Weddings. (Faber & Faber; Later Printing edition January 1971) Originally published 1964.
Intense love always leads to mourning. — Louise Glück, Triumph of Achilles. (Ecco Pr; First Edition edition May 1987)
What will survive of us is love. — Philip Larkin, from “An Arundel Tomb,” The Whitsun Weddings. (Faber & Faber; Later Printing edition January 1971) Originally published 1964.
You came to the side of the bed and sat staring at me. Then you kissed me—I felt hot wax on my forehead. I wanted it to leave a mark: that’s how I knew I loved you. Because I wanted to be burned, stamped, to have something in the end— —Louise Glück, from “The Encounter,”… Continue reading Louise Glück
When You are Old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty… Continue reading W.B. Yeats
Maybe she loved me, maybe not – who knows? Not even the gods can see into a human heart – it’s that dark. ―Gregory Orr, from “Orpheus Descending,” Orpheus & Eurydice: A Lyric Sequence. (Copper Canyon Press; First Edition edition February 1, 2001)
You came to the side of the bed and sat staring at me. Then you kissed me—I felt hot wax on my forehead. I wanted it to leave a mark: that’s how I knew I loved you. Because I wanted to be burned, stamped, to have something in the end— — Louise Glück, from “The… Continue reading Louise Glück
The Vale of Soul-Making 