After Sappho
by
Each one lingered in her own place, searching the fragments of poems for words to say what it was, this feeling that Sappho calls aithus-somenon, the way that leaves move when nothing touches them but the afternoon light.
“As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”
― The Fault in Our Stars
― The Fault in Our Stars
“I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”
― A Room of One’s Own
― A Room of One’s Own
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