The sun is setting. I feel this river flowing through me— its past, its ancient soil, the changing climate. The hills gently girdle it about: its course is fixed. — Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer. (Obelisk Press 1934)
What’s a fuck when what I want is love? — Henry Miller
Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to… Continue reading Henry Miller
What is there to struggle against? Nobody can put the stars back together again. — Henry Miller from “Patchen: Man of Anger and Light,” Stand Still Like the Hummingbird (New Directions 1962) Originally published 1959.
She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately— a thousand eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us and we in each other’s arm oblivious. I sit down beside her and she talks— a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy.… Continue reading Henry Miller
We are dancing in the hollow of nothingness. We are one flesh, but separated like stars. — Henry Miller
Night is longing, longing, longing, beyond all endurance. — Henry Miller, Sexus. (The Rosy Crucifixion #1). Grove Press January 12, 1994) Originally published 1949.