Jan 27, 2021
“Language is like a silk shot; so much depends on the angle at which it is held.”
— John Fowles, The French Lieutenant’s Woman
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@flowers-in-sanfrancisco
“Language is like a silk shot; so much depends on the angle at which it is held.”
— John Fowles, The French Lieutenant’s Woman
“To read is to find meanings, and to find meanings is to name them; but these named meanings are swept toward other names, names call to each other, reassemble, and their grouping calls for further naming: I name, I unname, I rename, so the text passes.”
—
Roland Barthes, S/Z
The reader is light, divided, dispersed, never still, and so is her reading.
Maggie Nelson, Bluets.
touch August before it leaves: slowly, tenderly
a warm whispering a familiar traceability a new syntax of rain
i brace myself against the tactile, the liminal and still i wake
earlier than the gliding sun twice soft, half-asleep under a bruising dawn
i oscillate, i breathe i pulse forward into existence (amen. amen. amen.)
— j. p. berame // no. 082117
“I run these little pieces of myself through her and I come out complete.”
— Carson McCullers, from A Tree, a Rock, a Cloud, featured in The Collected Stories of Carson McCullers
Le ranch de Georgia O’Keeffe dans le désert Photo: © Ryan Lowry for AD France
Anne Carson, from “The Glass Essay” (Glass, Irony, and God)
Elizabeth Taylor on the set of Suddenly, Last Summer (1959)
Elizabeth Taylor on the set of Suddenly, Last Summer directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1959
The World Is Too Much with Us
by William Wordsworth
The World is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours And are up-gather’d now like sleeping flowers, For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.-Great God! I’d rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn,– So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Lou Salomé:
“Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue to exist, a wonderful living side by side can grow up, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole against the sky.”
“Spring has come again. The earth is like a child who knows poems by heart;”
— Rainer Maria Rilke, “XXI,” in Sonnets to Orpheus (Part One)
Carl Sandburg, from The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg; “Bitter Summer Thoughts XXI,”
“I looked out at dawn once or twice–a redness, like wood fire cinders, in a frosty sky; frost thick on the fields; the candles alight in some of the cottages, and so back to bed, wrapping my clothes round me.”
— Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry written c. January 1931 featured in “The Diaries of Virginia Woolf,”
Photo by Stephen Shore, 1974
Anne Sexton Photographed by Arthur Furst (Summer 1974) featured in The Last Summer
Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Henry Miller featured in “A Literate Passion: Letters,”
