Mats

“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown I back, throat to the stars, "more like deer than human being." To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted
to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free.”
― Sylvia Plath, Ariel

“Niet hoe je was, hoe je op je ellebogen achterover leunend, zo bleek was je,
hoe we keken - niet vergeten,
niet het zich zuchtend openvouwen - nooit vergeten,
niet hoe het had kunnen zijn, hoe we hadden willen zijn.

Wat van ons verloren is gegaan.
Wie van ons verloren ging.
Laten we elkaar zo herinneren
voor de herinneringen dingen met ons doen:

een dunne lijn rood, gloeiend in de avondlucht,
hoe we, op onze ellebogen achterover leunend, naar elkaar keken,
een fonkeling in het wachten, een nauwelijks hoorbare zucht.

Wit
oplossend als suiker
in het vallende duister.

De echo van je zucht.

De echo van de echo van je zucht.”
― Peter Verhelst, Wij totale vlam

“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar