literacki
"Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again…"
— Frank O’Hara,
from “Mayakovsky”
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again…"
ars poetica
"Fill yourself up with the forsythias
and when the lilacs flower, stir them in too
with your blood and happiness and wretchedness,
the dark ground that seems to come with you.
Sluggish days. All obstacles overcome.
And if you say: ending or beginning, who knows,
then maybe—just maybe—the hours will carry you
into June, when the roses blow."
and when the lilacs flower, stir them in too
with your blood and happiness and wretchedness,
the dark ground that seems to come with you.
Sluggish days. All obstacles overcome.
And if you say: ending or beginning, who knows,
then maybe—just maybe—the hours will carry you
into June, when the roses blow."
— Gottfried Benn, “Last Spring,”
literacki
"I encounter millions of bodies in my life; of
these millions, I may desire some hundreds; but of these hundreds, I love only
one. The other with whom I am in love designates for me the specialty of my
desire."
— Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments
literacki
"Under certain circumstances there are few
hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as
afternoon tea."
— Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady
ars poetica
"I have in mind
only how even a least
disturbance, strangely
heightening a thing’s
beauty, can at last
define it."
only how even a least
disturbance, strangely
heightening a thing’s
beauty, can at last
define it."
— Carl Phillips, “Words of Love”
ars poetica
"Things have a way of disappearing that pleases
the gods. You’d be mad to try and stay."
— Jeff Whitney, from “Everyone in Goya’s Black Paintings…”
ars poetica
"All but Death, can be Adjusted—
Dynasties repaired—
Systems—settled in their Sockets—
Citadels—dissolved—
Wastes of Lives—resown with Colors
By Succeeding Springs—
Death—unto itself—Exception—
Is exempt from Change—"
Dynasties repaired—
Systems—settled in their Sockets—
Citadels—dissolved—
Wastes of Lives—resown with Colors
By Succeeding Springs—
Death—unto itself—Exception—
Is exempt from Change—"
— Emily Dickinson, “[All but Death, can be Adjusted]”
ars poetica
What are days for?
Days are where we
live.
They come, they wake
us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy
in:
Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the
doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.
~Days By Philip Larkin
quoth the madman
“What makes lovemaking and reading resemble each other most is that within both
of them times and spaces open, different from measurable time and
space.”
— Italo Calvino
— Italo Calvino
belles lettres
"He saw himself drowned in a lake, heavy and
ice-cold drops of water fell at regular intervals upon his breast, and when I
drew his attention to those drops of water which were actually falling at
regular intervals upon the roof, he denied having heard them. He was even vexed
at what I translated by imitative harmony…. His genius was full of mysterious
harmonies of nature, translated by sublime equivalents into his musical thought,
and not by a servile repetition of external sounds."
— George Sand,
describing an encounter with Frédéric Chopin
quoth the madman
"1. Sponges, who absorb all that they read and
return it in nearly the same state, only a little dirtied.
2. Sand-glasses, who retain nothing and are content to get through a book for the sake of getting through the time.
3. Strain-bags, who retain merely the dregs of what they read.
4. Mogul diamonds, equally rare and valuable, who profit by what they read, and enable others to profit by it also."
2. Sand-glasses, who retain nothing and are content to get through a book for the sake of getting through the time.
3. Strain-bags, who retain merely the dregs of what they read.
4. Mogul diamonds, equally rare and valuable, who profit by what they read, and enable others to profit by it also."
— Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Readers May Be Divided into Four Classes”
literacki
A self is not something static, tied up in a pretty parcel and handed to the
child, finished and complete. A self is always becoming.
~Madeleine L’Engle, A Circle of Quiet
~Madeleine L’Engle, A Circle of Quiet
quote me
Wanting to meet an author because you like his work is like wanting to meet a duck because you like pâté
literacki
“Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius.”
― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Valley of Fear
― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Valley of Fear
literacki
Freedom is not knowledge, but what one has become after knowledge. It is a state of mind that not only admits contradiction but seeks it out…
Octavio Paz; “Marcel Duchamp: Appearance Stripped Bare,”
literacki
I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods.
H.P. Lovecraft; “Ex Oblivione”
quoth the madman
"But there is another meaning of the word
‘humanism.’ It is basically this: man is always outside of himself, and it is in
projecting and losing himself beyond himself that man is realized."
—
Jean-Paul Sartre, Existentialism is a Humanism
literacki
"Look, I want to love this world as though
it’s the last chance I’m ever going to get to be alive and know
it."
— Mary Oliver, from “October”
quoth the madman
There are few people whom I
really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world,
the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the
inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be
placed on the appearance of merit or sense.
~Jane Austen
literacki
"Extinguish my eyes, I’ll go on seeing
you.
Seal my ears, I’ll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you,
without a mouth I can swear your name."
Seal my ears, I’ll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you,
without a mouth I can swear your name."
— Rainer Maria
Rilke, from Book of Hours
literacki
"… we are only fiction. We are only the idea we
have of ourselves."
— Edmond Jabès, from Cut of Time
literacki
"If you want to know how much darkness there is
around you, you must sharpen your eyes, peering at the faint lights in the
distance."
— Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities
literacki
"To say this silence means to say the sacred,
but also, at the same time, to undo it."
— Edmond Jabès, The Little
Book of Unsuspected Subversion
literacki
I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.
~Isabelle Eberhardt, The Nomad: The Diaries of Isabelle
Eberhardt
quoth the madman
Remember to look up at the stars, and not down to your feet. Try to make
sense of what you see, and wonder about what makes the universe exist. Be
curious. And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can
do and succeed at. It matters that you don’t just give up.
~Stephen Hawking
quoth the madman
It is because I dove into the abyss that I am beginning to love the abyss I am
made of.
quoth the madman
In the end, glorification of splendid underdogs is nothing other than
the glorification of the splendid system that makes them so.
Theodor Adorno
quoth the madman
I really don’t know what ‘I love you’ means. I think it means ‘Don’t
leave me here alone.’
Neil Gaiman
literacki
"Swooning saints have a moving charm. They
prove that we cannot have revelations in a vertical position, that we cannot
stand on our feet to face the ultimate truth. Swooning provokes such wild
voluptuousness that a man cognizant of negative joys has a hard time deciding
whether to fall or not."
— E. M. Cioran, Tears and Saints
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