She folds her memories like a parachute
Here's a girl from a dangerous town
She crops her dark hair short
So that less of her has to frown
When someone gets hurt.
She folds her memories like a parachute.
Dropped, she collects the peat
And cooks her veggies at home: they shoot
Here where they eat.
Ah, there's more sky in these parts than, say,
Ground. Hence her voice's pitch,
And her stare stains your retina like a gray
Bulb when you switch
Hemispheres, and her knee-length quilt
Skirt's cut to catch the squall,
I dream of her either loved or killed
Because the town's too small.
- Joseph Brodsky
Most of the writers I know
- David Foster Wallace
I Am the People
Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the world's food and clothes.
I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons
come from me and the Lincolns. They die. And
then I send forth more Napoleons and Lincolns.
I am the seed ground. I am a prairie that will stand
for much plowing. Terrible storms pass over me.
I forget. The best of me is sucked out and wasted.
I forget. Everything but Death comes to me and
makes me work and give up what I have. And I forget.
Sometimes I growl, shake myself and spatter a few red
drops for history to remember. Then—I forget.
When I, the People, learn to remember, when I, the
People, use the lessons of yesterday and no longer
forget who robbed me last year, who played me for
a fool—then there will be no speaker in all the world
say the name: "The People," with any fleck of a
sneer in his voice or any far-off smile of derision.
The mob—the crowd—the mass—will arrive then.
- Carl Sandburg
The Nac Mac Feegle believe that the world is such a wonderful place that in order to have got into it they must have been very good in another existence and had arrived in, as it were, heaven. Of course, they appeared to die sometimes, even here, but they like to think of it as going off to be born again. Numerous theologians had speculated that this was a stupid idea, but it was certainly more enjoyable than many other beliefs.
- Terry Pratchett, I shall Wear Midnight
Winter Night
All things vanished within
The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
A corner draft fluttered the flame
And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow
It snowed hard throughout the month
Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
- Boris Pasternak
The whole family explodes
My brother's death, when he was eight years old, blew the family apart. He had an accident and it was miserable. It coloured everything. I was 16 and that was the end of family life from that point, as often happens in families where's there's a death of a child. The whole family explodes.
- Paul Bettany
Thought for the Day
I'm [...] interested in having a god who is demonstrably a ventriloquist's dummy. After all, isn't this the way we use most of our deities? We can look through our various sacred books and by choosing one ambiguous passage or one interpretation over another we can pretty much get our gods to justify our own current agendas. We can make them say what we want them to say.
The big advantage of worshipping an actual glove puppet of course is that if things start to get unruly or out of hand you can always put them gak in the gox. And you know, it doesn't matter if they don't want to go gak in the gox, they have to go gak in the gox.
- Alan Moore, Alternative Thought For The day Radio 4
The nurse opened her mouth to speak
The nurse opened her mouth to speak, but Tiffany didn't allow the words any space. 'The cook has told me that you are a very religious woman, always on your knees, and that is fine by me, absolutely fine, but didn't it ever occur to you to take a mop and bucket down there with you? People don't need prayers, Miss Spruce; they need you to do the job in front of you, Miss Spruce. And I have had enough of you, Miss Spruce, and especially of your lovely white coat. I think Roland was very impressed by your wonderful white coat, but I am not, Miss Spruce, because you never do anything that will get it dirty.'
- Terry Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight
Immeasurable emptiness
- Haruki Murakami
Our revels now are ended
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
- William Shakespeare
Between Going and Coming
the day wavers,
in love with its own transparency.
The circular afternoon is now a bay
where the world in stillness rocks.
All is visible and all elusive,
all is near and can't be touched.
Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the shade of their names.
Time throbbing in my temples repeats
the same unchanging syllable of blood.
The light turns the indifferent wall
into a ghostly theater of reflections.
I find myself in the middle of an eye,
watching myself in its blank stare.
The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause.
- Octavio Paz
Remembering
that will change your life,
make it more than it is—
something wonderful, exceptional,
stones awakening, depths opening to you.
In the dusky bookstalls
old books glimmer gold and brown.
You think of lands you journeyed through,
of paintings and a dress once worn
by a woman you never found again.
And suddenly you know: that was enough.
You rise and there appears before you
in all its longings and hesitations
the shape of what you lived.
- Rilke
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