Sarah Kane, Crave
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David Mitchell, Slade House
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âTo sit alone or with a few friends, half-drunk under a full moon, you just understand how lucky you are; itâs a story you canât tell. Itâs a story you almost by definition, canât share. Iâve learned in real time to look at those things and realize: I just had a really good moment.â
â Anthony Bourdain, in his final interview
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âWe have a double standard, which is to say, a man can show how much he cares by being violent â see, heâs jealous, he cares â a woman shows how much she cares by how much sheâs willing to be hurt; by how much she will take; how much she will endure.â
â Andrea Dworkin (via feministsorgnow)
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âI would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.â
â G. K. Chesterton
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frank ohara
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when anne michaels said we belong where love finds us.
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âDer Ausdruck der Leute, die sich in Gemäldegalerien bewegen, zeigt eine schlecht verhehlte Enttäuschung darĂźber, dass dort nur Bilder hängen.â
â Walter Benjamin, EinbahnstraĂe, S. 108
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âWe knew, finally, that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.â
Jeffrey EugenidesâThe Virgin Suicides (2002)
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Mahmoud Darwish, from âShe/He,â in Almond Blossoms and Beyond, tr. Mohammad Shaheen
[text ID: She: Have you ever known love?
He: When winter comes,
I will be touched
by a passion for
something absent.
I will give it a name,
any name,
and will forgetâŚ]
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âTo meet him, I go back to the Leningrad of 1964. The streets are devilishly cold: we sit on the pavement, he begins abruptly (a dry laugh, a cigarette) to tell me the story of his life, his words change to icicles as we speak. I read them in the air.â
Ilya Kaminsky, âJoseph Bodskyâ, Dancing in Odessa
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Sometimes I think Iâm never going to write a poem again
and then thereâs a full moon.
I miss being in love but I miss
myself most when Iâm gone.
In the salty wet air of my ancestry
my auntie peels a mango with her teeth
and Iâm no longer
writing political poems; because there are
mangoes and my favorite memory is still alive.
Iâm digging for meaning but haunted by purpose
and itâs an insufficient approach.
Whatâs the margin of loss on words not spent today?
Iâm getting older. Iâm buying smaller images to travel light.
I wake up, I light up, I tidy, and itâs all over now.
â Camonghne Felix, âBorn. Living. Will. Die.â
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âWell, if God doesnât exist, whoâs laughing at us?â
â From The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
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âToo many words, / but preciousâ
â John Ashbery, from âUptickâ
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âThereâs an old Jewish story that says in the beginning, God was everywhere and everything. A totality. But to make creation, God had to remove Himself from some part of the universe, so something besides Himself could exist. So He breathed in, and in the places where God withdrew, there creation exists. âSo God just leaves?â No. He watches. He rejoices. He weeps. He observes the moral drama of human life and gives meaning to it by caring passionately about us, and remembering. Matthew ten, verse twenty-nine: Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. But the sparrow still falls.â
â Mary Doria Russell, The Sparrow
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â[âŚ] das Versäumte geht um, gross wie die Schemen der Zukunft.â
âPaul Celan, âNachts, wenn das Pendel der Liebe schwingtâ
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âDein
HinĂźbersein heute Nacht.
Mit Worten holt ich dich wieder, da bist du,
alles ist wahr und ein Warten
auf Wahres.â
Paul Celan, âDein HinĂźberseinâ (Aus âDie Niemandsroseâ, 1959-63)
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