Jacob Sumrell

“A kind of memory that tells us
that what we're now striving for was
once
nearer and truer and attached to us
with infinite tenderness. Here all is
distance,
there it was breath. After the first
home
the second one seems draughty and
strangely sexed.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies

“Now nothing was left hanging to the pole but the frazzled ends of the snapped blades.”
― Fred Gipson, Old Yeller

“We all know how loving ends. But I want to fall in love with the world anyway. To let it crack me open. I want to feel what there is to feel. While I am here.”
― Maurice Sendak

“This evening I spied her in the back orchard. I decided to sacrifice one of my better old shirts and carried it out to her. The weather’s been warm of late. Buds on the apple trees are ready to burst. Usually by this time of the year, at that time of day, the back orchard is full of screaming children. Damut’s boys were the only two. They were on the terrace below her, running through the slanted sunlight, chasing each other around tree trunks. She stood above them, like a merlin watching rabbits play.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master