Below you'll find a list of all posts that have been categorized as “Quote”
Raymond Chandler was a brilliant noir writer, and a cat fancier through and through. Here’s a quote of his that’s a favorite of mine: “I decided I could lose nothing by the soft approach. If that didn’t produce for me—and I didn’t think it would—nature could take its course and we could bust up the furniture.”– The Lady In The …
a poem by Lisel Mueller What happened is, we grew lonelyliving among the things,so we gave the clock a face,the chair a back,the table four stout legswhich will never suffer fatigue. We fitted our shoes with tonguesas smooth as our ownand hung tongues inside bellsso we could listento their emotional language, and because we loved graceful profilesthe pitcher received a …
Ebb by Edna St. Vincent Millay I know what my heart is like Since your love died:It is like a hollow ledgeHolding a little pool Left there by the tide, A little tepid pool,Drying inward from the edge.
The Mediums It took a week for us to stop hearing the voices.Although they had been our constant companionsfor years by then, a steady stream of chatter,it reached the point where they became unbearable.Each message had become a death to us. Just a littleto start with, soft like the twitter of birds,not too intrusive perhaps, but then more insistentby the …
I watched a script reading recently that really illustrated the need for an emotional journey in a play. I believe you can make a satisfying film without one, but for a play, emotional arcs are required. Peter Craig, novelist and screenwriter, says this: “Per Aristotle, while we may still think of a story having three acts — Beginning, Middle, End …
This is one of Pablo Neruda’s odes to ordinary objects. The odes are far from ordinary. Translated by Robert Bly. Maru Mori brought mea pairof sockswhich she knitted herselfwith her sheepherder’s hands,two socks as softas rabbits.I slipped my feetinto themas though intotwocasesknittedwith threads oftwilightand goatskin.Violent socks,my feet weretwo fish madeof wool,two long sharkssea-blue, shotthroughby one golden thread,two immense blackbirds,two cannons:my …
By Sandra Cisneros If peaches had armssurely they would hold one anotherin their peach sleep. And if peaches had feetit is sure they wouldnudge one anotherwith their soft peachy feet. And if peaches couldthey would sleepwith their dimpled headon the other’seach to each. Like you and me. And sleep and sleep.
a poem by Jane Hirshfield 10 25 moleculesare enoughto call wood thrush or apple. A hummingbird, fewer.A wristwatch: 10 24. An alphabet’s molecules,tasting of honey, iron, and salt,cannot be counted— as some strings, untouched,sound when a near one is speaking. So it was when love slipped inside us.It looked out face to face in every direction. Then it was inside …
A poem about science that Sarah Howe wrote for Stephen Hawking. When we wake up brushed by panic in the darkour pupils grope for the shape of things we know. Photons loosed from slits like greyhounds at the trackreveal light’s doubleness in their cast shadows that stripe a dimmed lab’s wall—particles no more—and with a wave bid all certainties goodbye. …
wishes for sons (1987) i wish them cramps.i wish them a strange townand the last tampon.i wish them no 7-11. i wish them one week earlyand wearing a white skirt.i wish them one week late. later i wish them hot flashesand clots like youwouldn’t believe. let theflashes come when theymeet someone special.let the clots comewhen they want to. let them think they have …