The past, the future, dwelling there, like space, inseparable together. — Walt Whitman, from “Kosmos,” Leaves of Grass. Originally published: July 4, 1855. Advertisements
Month by month things are losing their hardness; even my body now lets the light through; my spine is soft like wax near the flame of the candle. I dream; I dream. — Virginia Woolf, The Waves. (Harvest Books 1978) Originally published October 8th 1931.
One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple. — Jack Kerouac, The DharmaBums. (Penguin Books; Reissue edition May 27, 1976) Originally published 1958.
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish, Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d, Of… Continue reading Walt Whitman
Here the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest-lasting: Here I shade and hide my thoughts—I myself do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems. — Walt Whitman, “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” Leaves of Grass. Originally published: July 4, 1855
Absence, the highest form of presence. — James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. (Penguin Classics; 1 edition, March 25, 2003) Originally published December 29th 1916.
I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don’t have complete emotions about the present, only about the past. ― Virginia Woolf, The Diary of Virginia Woolf, Volume Three: 1925-1930. (Mariner Books; First edition, September 14, 1981)