There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. —Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo. . (Penguin Classics; Reissue edition May 27, 2003) Originally published 1844. Advertisements
ix nearer: breath of my breath: take not thy tingling limbs from me: make my pain their crazy meal letting thy tigers of smooth sweetness steal slowly in dumb blossoms of new mingling: deeper: blood of my blood: with upwardcringing swiftness plunge these leopards of white dream in the glad flesh of my fear: more… Continue reading E. E. Cummings
The soul grows by subtraction, not addition. — Henry David Thoreau
These are the days that must happen to you. — Walt Whitman, from “Song of the Open Road,” Leaves of Grass. Originally published: July 4, 1855.
How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; — W. B. Yeats, from “When You Are Old,” The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats. Edited by Richard J. Finneran, (Scribner,… Continue reading W. B. Yeats
I cannot capture your grace in words; I am profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity in you. — John Keats, in a letter to Fanny Brawne dated 5 Novemeber 1820
Sometimes with the most intense pain a paralysis of sensibility occurs. The soul disintegrates–hence the deadly frost–the free power of the mind–the shattering, ceaseless wit of this kind of despair. There is no inclination for anything any more–the person is alone, like a baleful power–as he has no connection with the rest of the world… Continue reading Novalis