[A]nd I realized then the unmitigable chasm between all life and all print–that those who can, do, those who cannot and suffer enough because they can’t, write about it.
— William Faulkner, The Unvanquished (Random House, 1938)
Bertrand Russell — The Vale of Soul-Making
The world is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.
— Bertrand Russell
Albert Camus — The Vale of Soul-Making
Words that come from the heart are always simple. — Albert Camus, The Misunderstanding. ( 1943)
E. E. Cummings — The Vale of Soul-Making
But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight, And I knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart– Open to me! For I will show you the places nobody knows, And, if you like, The perfect places of Sleep. — E. E. Cummings, from “You Are Tired (I Think),” Etcetera: […]
Charles Bukowski — The Vale of Soul-Making
Memory I’ve memorized all the fish in the sea I’ve memorized each opportunity strangled and I remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the color of forgotten love and I’ve memorized that too. I’ve memorized green rooms in St. Louis and New Orleans where I wept because I knew that by myself I […]
Hélène Cixous — The Vale of Soul-Making
I write, I extend my hand; without my knowing it, this is already a prayer, I extend my hand to you so that you will exist because you do exist, beyond my fingers, your fingers, without my knowing it this is already a response, already I draw to my side the site for you, with […]
Langston Hughes — The Vale of Soul-Making
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams Were it not for your songs. — Langston Hughes, “Quiet Girl,” The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes (First Vintage Classic, 1995)
Rainer Maria Rilke — The Vale of Soul-Making
For the Sale of a Single Poem Ah, poems amount to so little when you write them too early in your life. You ought to wait and gather sense and sweetness for a whole lifetime, and a long one if possible, and then, at the very end, you might perhaps be able to write ten […]
Clarice Lispector — The Vale of Soul-Making
I want the following word: splendor, splendor is fruit in all its succulence, fruit without sadness. I want vast distances. My savage intuition of myself. ― Clarice Lispector, The Stream of Life. (University of Minnesota Press; 1st edition, June 28, 1989) Originally published August 1973.
Jack Kerouac — The Vale of Soul-Making
So therefore I dedicate myself to myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my suffrances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger—because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being. — Jack Kerouac
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