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William Faulkner

She smelled like trees. In the corner it was dark, but I could see the window. I squatted there, holding the slipper. I couldn’t see it but my hands saw it, and I could hear it getting night, and my hands saw the slipper but I couldn’t see myself, but my hands could see the… Continue reading William Faulkner

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A.S. Byatt

I think, yes, a man and a woman can be good friends, but it isn’t easy for them being as no one else will suppose that that is what they are. And then there’s the problem of being different sexes. I think if they are good friends, then whatever else they are – or are… Continue reading A.S. Byatt

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Nathaniel Hawthorne

It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom. Each, in its utmost development, supposes a high degree of intimacy and heart-knowledge; each renders one individual dependent for the food of his affections and spiritual life upon another; each leaves the passionate lover, or… Continue reading Nathaniel Hawthorne

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Joseph Campbell

Love is the burning point of life, and since all life is sorrowful, so is love. The stronger the love, the more the pain. Love itself is pain, you might say -the pain of being truly alive. ― Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth. Published by Anchor (June 1, 1991)

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Jack Kerouac

Thinking of the stars night after night I begin to realize “The stars are words” and all the innumerable worlds in the Milky Way are words, and so is this world too. And I realize that no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of… Continue reading Jack Kerouac

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