You have my permission not to love me; I am a cathedral of deadbolts and I’d rather burn myself down than change the locks. — Rachel McKibbens, from “Letter From My Brain to My Heart,” Pink Elephants. (Cypher Books, December 1, 2009)
We are all mortal until the first kiss and the second glass of wine. — Eduardo Galeano
Every time I kiss you After a long separation I feel I am putting a hurried love letter In a red mailbox. — Nizar Qabbani, “Every Time I Kiss You,” Arabic Poetry: http://www.adab.com/en Modern Arabic Poetry >> Nizar Qabbani. Poem No.: 336.
Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. Especially when you are near me as you are now. It feels as though I had a string tied here under my left rib where my heart is, tightly knotted to you in a similar fashion. And when you go, with all that distance between us, I… Continue reading Charlotte Brontë
There is a broken-down burning house inside the soul and someone in the window waves. It is me. Dammit — Steve Scafidi, from “The Denunciation of Ricky Skaggs from On High,” The Cabinetmaker’s Window (Louisiana State University Press, 2014)
I see when men love women. They give them but a little of their lives. But women, when they love, give everything. — Oscar Wilde
Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, magnetic, nourishing Night! Night of south winds! Night of the large, few stars! Still, nodding Night! Mad, naked, Summer Night! ― Walt Whitman, from “Song of Myself,” Leaves of Grass. Originally published: July 4, 1855.