L'enfant terrible

The tears of Rimbaud

[poeticque]

“Hope is a faithless shipmaster.”

— Søren Kierkegaard

[lotusohm]

Fiction forms what streams in us.

Anne Carson (via lotusohm)

[poeticque]

“I had a dream once,

perhaps it was a dream,

that the crab was my ignorance of God.

But who am I to believe in dreams?”

The Poet of Ignorance, by Anne Sexton.

[poeticque]

He found one word, one only for the moon.

The Waves, by Virginia Woolf. 

[poeticque]

“why are we still you?”

-ex patria, by Evie Shockley.

[poeticque]

(—) So it's back. You'll never be mentally sober.

On Rachmaninoff's Birthday, in Lunch Poems by Frank O'Hara.

[black-whole]

Blondell Cummings, “Chocolate”, 1983. “Food for Thought”

https://artandpractice.org/exhibitions/exhibition/dance-as-moving-pictures/

[poeticque]

“You fear the wrong things. Your fear is the wrong fear.”

Short Talk on No One to Talk to, by Anne Carson.

[derangedrhythms]

I know this is nonsense, but you're clever enough to understand nonsense.

Iris Murdoch, from 'The Sea, the Sea'

[soracities]

“August 2nd. Something wants to be said but the words don’t agree.”

— Tomas Tranströmer, from “Baltics”, The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems (trans. Robin Fulton)

[soracities]

Emily Dickinson, from “No crowd that has occurred” (Poem #515), Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson

[Text ID: “August–Absorbed–Numb”]

[poeticque]

Everything depends on what the individual can make of being betrayed. And in order to be betrayed you need – you might have to find, to recruit, to seduce – a betrayer... Betrayal is an uncanny form of intimacy.

Judas’ Gift, by Adam Phillips. 

[poeticque]

We have to bear something simple but significant in mind: that in betraying someone (or something) one is protecting someone (or something) else.

Judas’ Gift, by Adam Phillips. 

And that someone or something else may be – in fact is likely to be – of real value. (cont.)

[poeticque]

Here the betrayer is someone who wanted something to change;

Judas’ Gift, by Adam Phillips. 

[poeticque]

Everything made by human hands is a thing. That is the only general definition I will allow myself.

Man and Things, Vladimir Nabokov.

[poeticque]

"Hmm, yes . . . a thing."

Three Sisters, Anton Chekhov.

[theoptia]

Anaïs Nin, from Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love,” The Unexpurgated Diary (1931-1932) of Anaïs Nin

Text ID: I’m in full rebellion against my own mind, that when I live, I live by impulse, by emotion, by white heat.