September 2011
16 posts
charles baudelaire | get drunk
“One should always be drunk. That’s the great thing; the only question. Not to feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and bowing you to the earth, you should be drunk without respite.
Drunk with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you please. But get drunk.
And if sometimes you should happen to awake, on the stairs of a palace, on the green grass of a ditch, in...
8 tags
gazealongtheopenroad:
“I mean, has anybody been watching the debates lately? You’ve got a governor whose state is on fire denying climate change. It’s true. You’ve got audiences cheering at the prospect of somebody dying because they don’t have healthcare. And booing a service member in Iraq because they’re gay. That’s not reflective of who we are.”
—Barack Obama, Sunday at a Democratic...
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phederisurlesplaines:
You chased after the leaves and forgot about the tree you see what is getting away but you forgot what roots the ground for you.
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3 tags
: I think there are notenough visible wings to go... →
growing-orbits:
I think there are not enough visible wings to go around. that I love your hair - the way it carries sun. the way your soul is threaded between neon and night - Aurora Borealis - an illumination between things that have been torn and that which glistens in us. we search for ways to bring…
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Pierre Tielhard de Chardin
“The day will come when, after harnessing space, the winds, the tides and gravitation, we shall harness the energies of love. And on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, we shall have discovered fire. “
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Anaïs Nin - 4
The more southern, the more I respond to it, to perfumes, repose in the gestures, the mantle of nature matching its rhythms, man-to-earth and field-to-man, horses and men, and the little Ford Model A, not as noisy as the other cars, less obtrusive, smaller to park, more in keeping with the landscape. Gone the harshness, the brittleness, the violent uproar of the city.
The beauty of this moment is...
At some point you stop seeking right? Or, you find something to cling to. Hopefully it is something of truth and not something safe or convenient. - TUT
Words make love on the page like flies in the summer heat and the poet is only the bemused spectator. Charles Simic
