Well, I have lost you; and I lost you fairly; in my own way, and with my full consent. Say what you will, kings in a tumbrel rarely went to their deaths more proud than this one went. Some nights of apprehension and hot weeping I will confess; but that’s permitted me; day dried my eyes; I was not one for keeping rubbed in a cage a wing that would be free. If I had loved you less or played you...
It is just as well my friend and I couldn’t see each other over the telephone: blue eyes are bad at dread. —John Leonard, Private Lives in the Imperial City
“I wish there were seven hundred people down in that water, every face raised in supplication. And I’d stand here on this bridge and deliver them into the arms of Jesus. What a rush!” —My father
my mother said I am going now when you are alone you will be all right —W.S. Merwin, Rain Light
“I will love you forever,” swears the poet. I find this easy to swear. “I will love you at 4:15 P.M. next Tuesday”: Is that still as easy? —W.H. Auden, 1959
Joy fades by early spring. And my sorrow grows colder still with autumn and winter. But playing at love these warm and moonlit summer nights, we tangle so well together. —Lady Midnight, Songs of the Four Seasons, fifth century
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself...– Edna St. Vincent Millay (via comeandtakeme)