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  • #1
    Sylvia Plath
    “The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #2
    شمس الدين الذهبي
    “أصابك عشق أم رميت بأسهم - فما هذه إلا سجيّة مغرمِ
    ألا فاسقني كاسات خمر وغني لي - بذكري سليمى والكمان ونغمي
    فدع عنك ذكر العامرية إنني ـ أغار عليها من فمي المتكلمِ
    أغار عليها من أبيها وأمها ـ إذا حدثاها بالكلام المغمغمِ
    أغار عليها من ثيابها ـ إذا لبستها فوق جسم منعّم
    فواللّه لولا اللّه فواللّه ـ لولا اللّه والخوف والحياء
    لقبلتها، للثمتها، لعضتها - لضممتها بين العقيق وزمزم
    وان حرم الله في شرعه الزنا - فما حرّم التقبيلُ يوماً على الفم
    وإن حرمت يوما على دين محمدٍ - فخذها على دين المسيح ابن مريم

    أَعُدُّ اللَيالي لَيلَةً بَعدَ لَيلَةٍ - وَقَد عِشتُ دَهراً لا أَعُدُّ اللَيالِيا
    أُصلّي فما أدري إذا ما ذكرتُها - أثنتّينِ صلّيتُ العشاء أَم ثمانيا

    عشقتك يا ليلى وأنت صغيرة - وأنا ابن سبع ما بلغت الثمانيا
    يقولون ليلى في العراق مريضة - ألا ليتني كنت الطبيب المداويا
    و قالوا عنك سوداء حبشية - ولولا سواد المسك ما انباع غاليا

    بلغوها إذا أتيتم حماها - أنني مت في الغرام فداها
    واذكروني لها بكل جميل - فعساها تحن علي عساها
    واصحبوها لتربتي فعظامي - تشتهي أن تدوسها قدماها
    إن روحى من الضريح تناجيها - وعيني تسير إثر خطاها
    لم يشقني يوم القيامة لولا - أملي أنني هناك أراها

    تسائلني حلوة المبسم - متى أنت فبّلتني في فمي؟
    سلي شفتيك بما حسّتاه - من شفتي شاعر مغرم
    ألم تغمضي عندها ناظريك؟ - وبالرّاحتين ألم تحتمي؟
    فإن شئت أرجعتها ثانيا - مضاعفة للفم المنعم
    فقالت و غضذت بأهدابها - إذا كان حقا فلا تحجم
    سأغمض عينيّ كي لا أراك - وما في صنيعك من مأثم
    كأنّك في الحلم قبّلتني - فقلت و أفديك أن تحلمي”
    تراث

  • #3
    Sylvia Plath
    “And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #4
    Sylvia Plath
    “I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #5
    Sylvia Plath
    “I desire the things which will destroy me in the end.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #6
    Sylvia Plath
    “God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #7
    Sylvia Plath
    “I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

  • #8
    Charles Bukowski
    “I've never been lonely. I've been in a room -- I've felt suicidal. I've been depressed. I've felt awful -- awful beyond all -- but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me...or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude. It's being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I'll quote Ibsen, "The strongest men are the most alone." I've never thought, "Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I'll feel good." No, that won't help. You know the typical crowd, "Wow, it's Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?" Well, yeah. Because there's nothing out there. It's stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I've never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories. That's all. Sorry for all the millions, but I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine!”
    Charles Bukowski



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