11/12/11

'Making a short deft movement, Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his open hand.'

I am awake, not sour; an iris yawns.

I say, ‘quiet iris, the sun is still sleeping.

G.

‘Let us scrape the ice from our frosted feet, and see what sort of a place this “Spouter” may be.’

-H.Melville

‘No, Hamilcar! No,’ I said to him; ‘there is no rest in this world, and the quietude you long for is incompatible with the duties of life. And you say that we are old, indeed!  Listen to what I read in this catalogue, and then tell me whether this is a time to be reposing…’

-A. France

‘Already there are fine days and dust,

Already a blazing, azure sky,

The walls are on fire, the evenings lengthening,

And the green going; little by little

A reddish reflection decorates

The towering trees with their black branches.

This fine weather weighs me down and wearies me.

It is only after rainy days

That spring should surge up,

A picture going green and rose-colored,

Brought out like a new nymph

Who steps from the water, smiling.’

G. de Nerval

‘I am conscious that, as a writer, I have many defects, because I am the first to be dissatisfied with my own efforts. You can just picture the times when I cross-examine myself, to find that I have literally not expressed the twentieth part of what was in my mind, and could, perhaps, have been expressed! My salvation lies in the sure hope that one day God may grant me such strength and inspiration that I shall find perfect self-expression and be able to make plain all that I carry in my heart and imagination.’

F. Dostoevsky