Jacques Scraps

M UK (bookish?)sideblog of @jacquesbonhomie

[radical-revolution]

[ruknowhere]

Walt Whitman // “The secret of it all, is to write in the gush, the throb, the flood, of the moment...to put things down without deliberation...without worrying about their style...without waiting for a fit time or place. I always worked that way. I took the first scrap of paper, the first doorstep, the first desk, and wrote, wrote, wrote… By writing at the instant the very heartbeat of life is caught.”

[litandlifequotes]

I have packed myself into silence so deeply and for so long that I can never unpack myself using words. When I speak, I only pack myself a little differently

The Hunger Angel by Herta Müller

[afrenchladyinnc]

[mournfulroses]

Albert Camus, from The Selected Works of Albert Camus; “The Plague,” published c. 1947

[rherlotshadow]

“For all that has Been left by November of leaves is torn From hazel and thorn And the greater trees. Throughout the copse No dead leaf drops On grey grass, green moss, burnt-orange fern, At the wind’s return.” Edward Thomas

[mournfulroses]

Albert Camus, from The Selected Works of Albert Camus; “The Plague,” published c. 1947

[noiredesir]

I have received dozens of messages from you and want you to know that I have read them all, even though I haven’t had the time to respond. I will do so as soon as I can. I am truly grateful to each of you. Thank you.

[reverie-quotes]

From her all springs arise To her all falls return

— Margaret Atwood, "Persephone Departing"

[ms-bella]

..

[sakurabreeze]

[wovi]

*

susan sontag

[sakurabreeze]

“What though the radiance that was once so bright, be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.”

William Wordsworth

[huariqueje]

“Art is the sharpening stone of the senses, which sharpens the gaze, the mind and the perceptions.”

—

László Moholy-Nagy

[luthienne]

“Give me a few days of peace in your arms—I need it terribly. I’m ragged, worn, exhausted. After that I can face the world.”

— Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin, featured in A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953

[gabiwlove]

waiting for your telepathic response

[literaryvein]

L. V., writings from the waiting room

[shisasan]

And don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.

Rumi, Form is Ecstastic