Just always be waiting for me. ― J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan, Henry Holt and Co. (BYR); 100 Anv edition (October 1, 2003) Originally published 1911. Advertisements
I dream through a wordless, familiar place. The small boat of the day sails into morning, past the postman with his modest haul, the full sound like the sea, leaving my hands free to remember. Moments of grace. Like this. — Carol Ann Duffy, from “Moments of Grace,” Collected Poems (Picador, 2015)
What is love if it is not an unravelling against the dark? In the moonless field between house and river, remember how you stood with your arms wide to the night, under every tumid star, waiting for one to drop. — John Glenday, “Windfall,” The Golden Mean (Picador, 2015)
I am simply a wounded and dying man. Who can be more regal than a dying man? — Alasdair Gray, Lanark. (Canongate Pub Ltd March 2003) Originally published 1981.
So, all regrets aside, let’s just assume I came from distant space. How else explain the blue? how else explain this silken chill, like snowfall at the heart? — John Burnside, from section 1 “Autobiography,” in “Self Portrait as Blue Baby,” Still Life with Feeding Snake (Jonathan Cape, 2017)
Sometimes you linger days upon a word, a single, uncontaminated drop of sound; for days it trembles, liquid to the mind, then falls: mere denotation dimming the undertow of language. — John Burnside, from “Like me, you sometimes waken,” Common Knowledge (Cape Poetry 1991)
Evil indeed is the man who has not one woman to mourn him. ― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles. (Signet; Reprint edition July 1, 2001) Originally published April 1st 1902.