Confessional Quotes

“Waking up breaks my heart.
Getting dressed breaks my arms.
Joining the crowd breaks my legs.
Letting someone in...does me in.”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Darkness Plays Favorites

“When I come to be united to thee with all my being, then there will be no more pain and toil for me, and my life shall be a real life, being wholly filled by thee.”
― Saint Augustine, The Confessions

“A book, a true book, is the writer's confessional. For, whether he would have it so or not, he is betrayed, directly or indirectly, by his characters, into presenting publicly his innermost feelings.”
― Nelson Algren, Entrapment and Other Writings

“Let's face it, if what you do is good, then you have God's blessing anyway. And if what you do is bad, then a priest's blessing isn't going to make the slightest bit of difference”
― Karl Wiggins, Shit my History Teacher DID NOT tell me!

“She [Mary Maclane] is almost always referred to as “confessional.” She has been referred to, several times, as the first blogger. Whereas her writing does not confess much - it is much more spiritual memoir than anything, or perhaps something akin to a mystic’s courtly love, directed at the self. I am wondering what distinguishes writing as confessional…

I keep on feeling I prefer the latter-day MacLane, the diary she wrote while convalescing from scarlet fever back home in Butte, Montana, I, Mary MacLane, that Melville House is only publishing as an ebook. Mary MacLane melancholy, totally isolated. Feeling intense disquiet. Now in her early thirties, meditating on her whirlwind celebrity, in cities, feeling distanced from all that, but longing for it too. Obsessed with the Mary MacLane who stopped writing, or stopped publishing books, who was involved with the anarchist/bohemian crowd in Chicago, with the Dill Pickle, who died in poverty and obscurity on the South Side at the age of 48. I want to write about her, but I don’t know how or why yet.”
― Kate Zambreno

“I long for the day I no longer long for him.”
― Franki Fiori , Down to the Bone

“It seems to me that although they have a respectable sales pitch, this business of a priest having the power to let bygones be bygones and grant us absolution from our scandals is all just one gigantic scam to con loads of money off a haunted and gullible public.”
― Karl Wiggins, Wrong Planet - Searching for your Tribe

“Thousands of blue dresses
boring the sun”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Table for One zine

“He tried to confuse a moon-child with the moonlight.
Yeah, I thought it was funny too.”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Will to Flutter

“Don't bother pulling my string again-
Not behind those doll eyes anymore
I won't say what's expected, kid,
laugh at your tantrum on the floor

I'm just not looking at you, kid,
I'm not a piss-poor heart anymore;
Not going home with the lowest bid
Out of stock- your projection whore

I'm never going back to the toy box
Elevated up from the cellar-
home of the wish-washed pretty cocks
Out of the dark, preachin' Helen Keller

Bored with the coin-operated allure
I'm top shelf, kid, out of your reach
You can't afford to walk in the store
Turn around, kid, don't slip in bleach


-from 'Ragdoll$ & Riche$”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Confessions of a D3AD Petal

“I've seen so much and lived it all. I  wanted  to  bite   the  earth  and  taste  it.  It  is  both  bitter  and  sweet,  and   if  I  had  my  time  to  live  over  again,  I  wouldn’t  change a  damn  thing —  Reg  Spiers”
― Julie McSorley Marcus McSorley

“I will fill the poems with great pain”
― Dorothea Lasky, Rome: Poems

“Raised on razorblades,
as they had more empathy than anyone
around me”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Escape from Narc Island

“i hope so dearly i can find one. a bone
that is as large as the city. as timeless as poems,
and damned poets; a magic.”
― Admer Balingan, metamorphosis

“there are no soft rests here,
no bird songs and Mother's yellow branches
to swing me.
only hideous lullabies and grotesque poems
hung on the wind, everywhere.
they swirl around as if dusts from mad city,
and dirty smokes from factories, and
i inhale all of them. like cannabis.
i inhale it more often that i fancy mosquitoes
and its bites as Mother's kiss,
touch,
a basketful of love.”
― Admer Balingan, metamorphosis

“Rape them all in my daydreams
for being good lil' nightmares;
Drape me in blurs of memes
I buried alive all my double-dares”
― Casey Renee Kiser, NightMARE Crush

“It is one thing to say (as we have) that the economic reveals the immanent to a degree and in a specific way—the sending of the Son reflecting the eternal generation of the Son, for example. But it is an altogether different thing to say that the economic constitutes the immanent, or that anything and everything in the economic (suffering, submission) is to be projected back into the immanent, as if what distinguishes Father from Son from Spirit are his actions in the world…. While God’s acts in history may reveal something of his triune identity, he in no way depends on history for his triune identity, nor should all that occurs in history be projected onto the Trinity’s immanent, eternal identity.”
― Matthew Barrett, Simply Trinity: The Unmanipulated Father, Son, and Spirit

“The fragile frequency
on which his nightglare exists
sends desperate
shock waves; subtle static
to infiltrate my daydreams,
breezing over my lips {come back},
knocking faintly on my skin
now once in a while,
reminding me of when
i really did believe strangers
had the best candy

The waves that got through
to me just like we were
one-

back when
I was fragile
too”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Inviting...and other misfortunes

“I see people. But I don’t see humanity.”
― Phoenix Moon, Emotional Roller Coaster: Confessions of a soul reborn from the ashes