“When we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy.” For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere … Continue reading
2 [untitled] She wants to speak, but I know what she is. She believes love is death—even if everything devoid of love disgusts her. Since her love makes her innocent, why should she speak? Mistress of the Castle, her fingers play upon mirrors of pronouns. With every word I write I remember the void … Continue reading
God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let … Continue reading
dragonfly hunter how far has he traveled today I wonder? Chiyo-ni Said to be written after the death of her son. Her only child. . Fukuda Chiyo-ni (Kaga no Chiyo) (福田 千代尼; 1703 – 2 October 1775) was a Japanese poet of the Edo period, widely regarded as one of the greatest female haiku poets. … Continue reading
Glass with Rose The state that we describe with the word distractions is perhaps only another form of attention, its symmetrical and more profound manifestation located in another region of the psyche: an attention directed from or through or even toward that more profound region. It is not unusual for the subjects of such distraction … Continue reading
The romance of Camus and Casares is richer, if not sadder, when considered alongside the narratives of each of their work. There is an eerie doubling of life and art. Absurdity is the only certainty, and this is confirmed over and over again by coincidence and chance. The two first met on June 6, 1944, the storied … Continue reading
BLANCHE: I don’t want realism. I want magic! [Mitch laughs] Yes, yes, magic! I try to give that to people. I misrepresent things to them. I don’t tell truth, I tell what ought to be truth. And if that is sinful, then let me be damned for it!–Don’t turn the light on! [Mitch crosses to … Continue reading
I speak to you across cities I speak to you across plains My mouth is upon your pillow Both faces of the walls come meeting My voice discovering you I speak to you of eternity O cities memories of cities Cities wrapped in our desires Cities come early cities come lately Cities strong and cities … Continue reading
First look from morning’s window The rediscovered book Fascinated faces Snow, the change of the seasons The newspaper The dog Dialectics Showering, swimming Old music Comfortable shoes Comprehension New music Writing, planting Traveling Singing Being friendly Vergnügungen Der erste Blick aus dem Fenster am Morgen Das wiedergefundene Buch Begeisterte Gesichter Schnee, der Wechsel der Jahreszeiten … Continue reading
SESSION OF MARCH 16, 1977 ÉCOUTE / HEARING Hierarchy of the fi ve senses: not only is it different for animals and for man (dogs: smell → hearing → sight), it’s changed over the history of humankind. Febvre: 1 medieval man: the prevalence of hearing over sight; then, since the Renaissance, a reversal. A culture … Continue reading
Pour le philosophe Gilles Deleuze (1925-1995), l’œuvre d’art est irréductible au champ de la communication et constitue un moyen de s’opposer aux injonctions du pouvoir. Créer, c’est résister à ce qui entend contrôler nos vies. par Gilles Deleuze La communication, c’est la transmission et la propagation d’une information. Or, une information, c’est quoi? Ce n’est pas … Continue reading
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the … Continue reading
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may tread me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like … Continue reading
I am making a sketch of the house in my notebook, and my eye sadly leaves the German roof, the German frame of the house, the gables, everything I love, every familiar thing. Once again I love deeply everything at home, because I have to leave it. Tomorrow I will love other roofs, other cottages. … Continue reading
O swift wind! O space and time! now I see it is true, what I guessed at; What I guess’d when I loaf’d on the grass; What I guess’d while I lay alone in my bed, And again as I walk’d the beach under the paling stars of the morning. My ties and ballasts leave … Continue reading
I am not yours, not lost in you, Not lost, although I long to be Lost as a candle lit at noon, Lost as a snowflake in the sea. You love me, and I find you still A spirit beautiful and bright, Yet I am I, who long to be Lost as a light is … Continue reading
How is it over there? How lonely is it? Is it still glowing red at sunset? Are the birds still singing on the way to the forest? Can you receive the letter I dared not send? Can I convey… the confession I dared not make? Will time pass and roses fade? Now it’s time to … Continue reading
At various times, I have asked myself what reasons moved me to study, while my night came down, without particular hope of satisfaction, the language of the blunt-tongued Anglo-Saxons. Used up by the years, my memory loses its grip on words that I have vainly repeated and repeated. My life in the same way weaves … Continue reading
Life Doesn’t Frighten Me Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud Life doesn’t frighten me at all Mean old Mother Goose Lions on the loose They don’t frighten me at all Dragons breathing flame On my counterpane That doesn’t … Continue reading
Simone de Beauvoir, The Art of Fiction No. 35 Interviewed by Madeleine Gobeil —Translated by Bernard Frechtman Simone de Beauvoir had introduced me to Jean Genet and Jean-Paul Sartre, whom I had interviewed. But she hesitated about being interviewed herself: “Why should we talk about me? Don’t you think I’ve done enough in my three … Continue reading
‘Dear Gurudev, days are endless since you went away” – she wrote… ” when we were together we mostlly played with words and tried to laugh away our best opportunities. Whenever there is the least sign of the nest becoming a jealous rival of the sky .. my mind, like a migrant bird, tries to … Continue reading