To know that one does not write for the other, to know that these things I am going to write will never cause me to be loved by the one I love (the other), to know that writing compensates for nothing, sublimates nothing, that it is precisely there where you are not–this is the beginning of writing.
— Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments. (Hill and Wang; Second Printing edition June 1, 1979) Originally published 1977.Roland Barthes — The Vale of Soul-Making
When a poet digs himself into a hole, he doesn’t climb out. He digs deeper, enjoys the scenery, and comes out the other side enlightened.
― Criss Jami, Venus in Arms. (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform January 23, 2012)Criss Jami — The Vale of Soul-Making
there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock.
― Charles Bukowski, from “the crunch,” Love Is a Dog from Hell: Poems, 1974-1977. (Ecco; Ecco edition May 31, 2002) Originally published 1977.Charles Bukowski — The Vale of Soul-Making
Passivity is not just acceptance, not like amorphous, inert matter ready to fit into a form, but passive as under pressure of death — death whose silent intensity does not resemble a welcome reception, leaving its imprint without a word, a body being delegated to the past, a body seen as an interval, a being in suspension, whose syncope is produced by snipping of time and which we can only see as some unarticulated savage history that presently makes no sense. Passive here is a complete absence of narrative, leaving us with an event that cannot be cited and is impossible as a recollection of a forgotten thought, because it was never forgotten, always remaining outside the field of memory.
Passivité n’est pas simple réception, pas plus qu’elle ne serait l’informe et inerte matière prête à toute forme — passives, les poussées de mourir (le mourir, silencieuse intensité ; ce qui ne se laisse pas accueillir ; ce qui s’inscrit sans parole, le corps au passé, corps de personne, le corps de l’intervalle :
Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there. — Henry Miller
‘In an ever-changing, incomprehensible world the masses had reached the point where they would, at the same time, believe everything and nothing, think that everything was possible and that nothing was true.’
Hannah Arendt in The Origins of Totalitarianism as quoted in – ‘Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted’ found at: cakeordeathsite – nothing is true everything is permitted
Yea, all things live forever, though at times they sleep and are forgotten.
― H. Rider Haggard, She (Oxford University Press, October 22, 1998). Originally published 1887.H. Rider Haggard — The Vale of Soul-Making
“That’s what all we are. Amateurs. We don’t live long enough to be anything else.”
– Charlie Chaplin, actor, director, composer, quote from the 1952 film “Limelight”“That’s what all we are. Amateurs. We don’t live long enough to be anything else.” — Art of Quotation
The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all…I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it. Just as dreams do, memory makes me profoundly aware of the unreality, the evanescence of the world, […]Eugène Ionesco — The Vale of Soul-Making
When you remember me, it means you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if […]Charlie Chaplin — The Vale of Soul-Making