What ate your favourite dark quotes?
āIn the shivery depths I saw a great heart bright as a ruby suspended in the vault by a huge web. It was beating and with each beat there fell to the ground a huge gout of blood. It was too large to be the heart of any living creature. It was larger even than the heart of a god. It is like the heart of agonyā. ā Henry Miller, from The Colossus of Maroussi.Ā
āLongs flaps and shreds of flesh rip off the womanās body and lift and blow away on the wind, leaving an exposed column of nerve and blood and muscle calling mutely through lipless mouth.āĀ ā Anne Carson, from The Glass Essay.
āAll claws and teeth, she strikes, she gorges; but nothing can console her for the ghastliness of her condition, nothingā.Ā ā Angela Carter, from The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; The Lady of the House of Love.
āIt wants our bodies, the landscape does, and everyone runs the risk of being swallowed up. Can we love nature for what it really is: predatory? We do not walk through a passive landscapeā. ā Richard Siken, from War of The Foxes; Landscape with Fruit Rot and Millipede.
āWith an old red hook in her mouth, the mouth that kept bleeding, into the terrible fields of her soulā¦āĀ ā Anne Sexton, from Live or Die; Consorting with Angels.
āRed, red, mother, you are blood redā .ā Anne Sexton, from The Book of Folly; The Death of Fathers.
āI have (ā¦) a seeing that floats within my bonesā. ā Alice Notley, from Mysteries of Small Houses; 47th Birthday.
āThis is the place you would rather not know about, this is the place that will inhabit you, this is the place you cannot imagine, this is the place that will finally defeat youā. ā Margaret Atwood, from Selected Poems II: Notes Towards a Poem that Can Never Be Written.
āMoon snakes, tongues of the darkĀ speak like bones unlocking, leaves fallingĀ of a future you wonāt believe inā. ā Margaret Atwood, from You Are Happy; The Circe/Mud Poems.
āI know a she who is terrified by butterflies as if they were supernatural. And the divine part of butterflies is terrifying indeed. And I know a he who shivers in horror before flowers ā he thinks that flowers are hauntingly delicate like a sigh of nobody in the darkā.ā Clarice Lispector, from Ćgua Viva.
āPlease,ā she said, āyouāre so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. Iād sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else.āĀ ā C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy.
āRevel in the open country of my wound, break apart its reeds and delicate rivuletsā. ā Federico GarcĆa Lorca, [trans. Paul Archer] from Sonnets of Dark Love; Sonnet of the garland of roses.
āSomething in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell ā a smell of dying moons and shadowsā.Ā ā Zelda Fitzgerald, from a letter to Francis Scott Fitzgerald, circa April 15th 1919.
āI am terrified by this dark thingĀ that sleeps in me; all day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignityā.ā Sylvia Plath, from The Collected Poems; Elm.
āThe great roots of night grow suddenly from your soul, and the things that hide in you come out againā. ā Pablo Neruda, from The Light Wraps You.
āThe heart threading a tunnel, a dark, dark tunnel: like a wreck we die to the very core, as if drowning at the heart or collapsing inwards from skin to soulā. ā Pablo Neruda, from Death Alone.
āYour life is a painting in a dark museum and sometimes you examine it closelyā.Ā ā Guillaume Apollinaire, from Zone.
āTo what extent we need deathāthatās something that canāt be spoken of. How we call on it with our terrified prayers, how we beseech it not to come, with what horror we adore itāno, that canāt be spoken of. We arenāt happy unless itās lying across our pathā.ā HĆ©lĆØne Cixous, from Stigmata; Hiss of the Axe.
āOn his way the gallow birds asked for food so he killed his horse to give them lunch. They sucked the blood up like whiskey and covered him with promisesā. ā Anne Sexton, from Transformations; The White Snake.
āAll peoples are driven to the point of eating their gods after a time: itās the old greed for a plateful of outer space, that craving for darkness, the lust to feel what it does to you when your teeth meet in divinity, in the flesh, when you swallow it down and you can see with its own cold eyes, look out through murderā.ā Margaret Atwood, from Selected Poems II; Eating Snake.
āNow you are at the place of annihilation. Now you are at the place of annihilation. She turns her head away from the blue beams of his eyes; she knows no other consummation than the only one she can offer him. She has not eaten for three days. It is dinner-time. It is bedtime.ā ā Angela Carter, from The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; The Lady of the House of Love.
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