Sometimes she sat and let her mind go blank and her eyes go out of focus, so that she watched the slow, jerky movements of the motes that floated across her pupils. They amazed her as a child. Now she saw them as a reflection of how she moved, floating listlessly through the world, occasionally… Continue reading Robert Goolrick,
…as it seldom happens that any felicity comes so pure as not to be tempered and allayed by some mixture of sorrow. — Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote. Francisco de Robles 1605 (Part One), 1615 (Part Two). Published in English 1612 (Part One), 1620 (Part Two).
How often do I lull my seething blood to rest, for you have never seen anything so unsteady, so uncertain, as this heart. — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther. (Weygand’sche Buchhandlung, Leipzig 29 September 1774, revised ed. 1787)
Each year is like putting a new coat over all the old ones. Sometimes I reach into the pockets of my childhood and pull things out. — Simon Van Booy, from “Little Birds,” The Secret Lives of People in Love (Turtle Point Press, 2007)
It’s hard as hell to hold on to your dignity when the risen sun is too bright in your losing eyes. ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars. (Dutton Books January 10, 2012)
I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We all of us have our particular devil who rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end. — Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca. (Victor Gollancz 1938)
We got quiet. The garden was combing her hair and putting on earrings. The house was full of dancing creatures, not male and female but both, two lovers in one body. The books downstairs were reciting their poetry to each other, rubbing together, whispering through the leather covers. Wine was flowing through the water pipes.… Continue reading Francesca Lia Block