I will enter you as hope enters me,
through blinding liquid, light of rain, and I
will stay inside until you send me out
—Camille T. Dungy, from “Ark”
Source: proustitute
“When was the last time I’d felt like this, felt in a way that refused all logic, felt the baffling complexity of what it means to be human, to be alive, to be flawed, to err, to choose to err, to run with outstretched arms into the firing squad, knowing fully well there is no hope one will make it out alive — and yet, what freedom to be given free will, to be able to say, “yes. Yes!” and go all the way to the edge and leap into the abyss? I couldn’t remember.”
—November, 2009
Source: approximation
Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star…
(via tumbleword)
Source: journalofanobody
“Here is a handful
of shadow I have brought back to you:
this decay, this hope, this mouth-
ful of dirt, this poetry.”
—Margaret Atwood, from “Mushrooms” in Selected Poems: Volume 2
Source: proustitute
“Time unseen time our continuing fiction however we tell it eludes our dear hope and our reason that is a pure condition of the story”
— W.S. Merwin | excerpt from “Secrets”
Source: evoketheforms
We inherit hope—
the gift of forgetting.
And so it was I entered the broken world
To trace the visionary company of love, its voice
An instant in the wind! (I know not whither hurled)
But not for long to hold each desperate choice.
My word I poured. But was it cognate, scored
Of that tribunal monarch of the air
Whose thigh embronzes earth, strikes crystal Word
In wounds pledged once to hope, —cleft to despair?
—From Hart Crane’s “The Broken Tower”
“Some of the best things are done by those with nowhere to turn, by those who don’t have time, by those who truly understand the world helpless. They dispense with the calculation of risk and profit, they take no thought for the future, they’re forced at spearpoint into the present tense. Thrown over a precipice, you fall or else you fly; you clutch at any hope, however unlikely; however—if I may use such an overworked word—miraculous. What we mean by that is, Against all odds.”
—Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
Source: hateshiploveship
