Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Oscar Wilde

So my too stormy passions work me wrong,
For excess of Love my Love is dumb

But surely unto thee mine eyes did show

Why I am silent, and my lute unstrung;

Else it were better we should part and go,

Thou to some lips of sweeter melody,

And I to nurse the barren memory

Of unkissed kisses, and songs never sung

Monday, September 29, 2008

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

A great commotion immobilized her in her center of gravity, planted her in her place, and her defensive will was demolished by the irresistible anxiety to discover what the orange whistles and the invisible globes on the other side of death were like.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Emily Dickinson

If you were coming in the fall,

I'd brush the summer by

With half a smile and half a spurn,

As housewives do a fly.

 

If I could see you in a year,

I'd wind the months in balls,

And put them each in separate drawers,

Until their time befalls.

 

If only centuries delayed,

I'd count them on my hand,

Subtracting till my fingers dropped

Into Van Diemen's land.

 

If certain, when this life was out,

That yours and mine should be,

I'd toss it yonder like a rind,

And taste eternity.

 

But now, all ignorant of the length

Of time's uncertain wing,

It goads me, like the goblin bee,

That will not state its sting.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Joan Armatrading

Mistaken shyness can be costly

Friday, September 26, 2008

Saint Exupéry

C'est le temps que tu as perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Thomas Hardy

When they talked on an indifferent subject, as now, there was ever a second silent conversation passing between their emotions, so perfect was the reciprocity between them.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Thomas Hardy

Wifedom has not yet squashed up and digested you in its vast maw as an atom which has no further individuality.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Paul Horgan

Of course it’s dangerous… There is something dangerous about all beauty, and it is still beautiful!  


After the great gift of life itself, it was the finest gift she made me, this means of losing fear.


I was moved in formless sorrow for what people knew, and were, and did, beyond the boundaries of my certain knowledge.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Joan Armatrading

like a moth

with no flame

to persuade me

like blood in the rain…

running thin

while you stand on the inside

looking in

save me

 

inside looking in

complete in yourself

throw me a lifeline

save me

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Emily Dickinson

I hide myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
You, unsuspecting, wear me too -
And angels know the rest


I hide myself within my flower,
That, fading from your vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me
Almost a loneliness.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Rickie Lee Jones

But after all
There are such things
And these are the things
Who'll turn your memories back into dreams again
Oh, it's all flying and waving
For you to keep trying
You're so close.
So close.

Friday, September 19, 2008

William H. Gass

Without words, what can be well and richly remembered?  Yesterdays disappear like drying mist... 


unformed feelings lack impact, just as unfelt ideas lose weight.  So walk around unrewritten, if you like.  Live on broken phrases and syllable gristle, telegraphese and film reviews.  No one will suspect until you speak, and your soul falls out of your mouth like a can of corn from a shelf.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

La Rochefoucauld

L’esprit ne saurait jouer longtemps le personnage du cœur.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Sappho

For if she flees, she shall not pursue; and if

she receives not gifts, yet shall she give, and if

she loves not, she shall soon love even against her will

 

Come to me now also, and deliver me from cruel anxieties, fulfill all that my heart desires to fulfill, and be yourself my comrade-in-arms.

Simone de Beauvoir

"Between women love is contemplative; caresses are intended less to gain possession of the other than gradually to re-create the self through her; separateness is abolished, there is no struggle, no victory, no defeat, in exact reciprocity each is at once subject and object, sovereign and slave; duality becomes mutuality." 

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Dostoevski

I was walking along and singing, for when I am happy I always hum some tune to myself like every happy man who has neither friends nor good acquaintances, and who has no one to share his joy with in a moment of happiness