And finally, love is magic, as is hatred, too, imprinting as they do upon the brain the image of a being whom we allow to haunt us. — Marguerite Yourcenar, L’Œuvre au noir/The Abyss. (Assimil Gmbh; Presumed to be 1st as edition is unstated edition June 25, 1976) Originally published 1968. Advertisements
How you die out in me: down to the last worn-out knot of breath you’re there, with a splinter of life. ― Paul Celan, Poems of Paul Celan. (Anvil Press Poetry November 9, 1995) Originally published 1972.
From the very fountain of enchantment there arises a taste of bitterness to spread anguish amongst the flowers. — Titus Lucretius Caru, The Way Things Are: The De Rerum Natura. Translated by Rolfe Humphries, (Indiana University Press January 1, 1968)