Suzanne

“Throgh me men gon into that blysful place
Of hertes hele and dedly woundes cure;
Thorgh me men gon unto the welle of grace,
There grene and lusty May shal evere endure.
This is the wey to al good aventure.
Be glad, thow redere, and thy sorwe of-caste;
Al open am I - passe in, and sped thee faste!'

'Thorgh me men gon,' than spak that other side,
'Unto the mortal strokes of the spere
Of which Disdayn and Daunger is the gyde,
There nevere tre shal fruyt ne leves bere.
This strem yow ledeth to the sorweful were
There as the fish in prisoun is al drye;
The'eschewing is only the remedye!”
― Geoffrey Chaucer, The Parliament of Birds

“I ain't got an original thought in my head. If it ain't got the scent of divinity to it, I ain't interested in it”
― Cormac McCarthy, The Sunset Limited

“There must be another life, she thought, sinking back into her chair, exasperated. Not in dreams; but here and now, in this room, with living people. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice with her hair blown back; she was about to grasp something that just evaded her. There must be another life, here and now, she repeated. This is too short, too broken. We know nothing, even about ourselves.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Years

“But why do I notice everything? She thought. Why must I think? She did not want to think. She wanted to force her mind to become a blank and lie back, and accept quietly, tolerantly, whatever came.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Years