Julia B.

“The Poet Asks His Love to Write"

Visceral love, living death,
in vain, I wait your written word,
and consider, with the flower that withers,
I wish to lose you, if I have to live without self.

The air is undying: the inert rock
neither knows shadow, nor evades it.
And the heart, inside, has no use
for the honeyed frost the moon pours.

But I endured you: ripped open my veins,
a tiger, a dove, over your waist,
in a duel of teeth and lilies.

So fill my madness with speech,
or let me live in my calm
night of the soul, darkened for ever.”
― Federico García Lorca, Collected Poems

“And then an event did occur, to Emily, of considerable importance. She suddenly realized who she was.ﾠ There is little reason that one can see why it should not have happened to her five years earlier, or even five later; and none, why it should have come that particular afternoon.ﾠ”
― Richard Hughes, A High Wind in Jamaica

“Wake in bed and know, because dreams are not true, that the sun will be shining and it will not storm today.”
― Lori Lansens, Rush Home Road

“Who has not been, or is not to be mad in some lonely hour of life? Who is quite safe from the trembling of the balance?”
― Mary Elizabeth Braddon, Lady Audley's Secret