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778 books
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3,254 voters
“• "Not you, not I: the forgetting will forget me in you, and the impersonal remembrance will efface me from that which remembers.”
― Awaiting Oblivion
― Awaiting Oblivion
“By her anguish; she made the sacrifice, full of strangeness, of her certainty that she existed, in order to give a sense to this nothingness of love which she had become. and thus, deep within her, already sealed, already dead, the most profound passion came to be.”
― Thomas the Obscure
― Thomas the Obscure
“- My mystery is simple: I don't know how to be alive. - Because you only know, or only knew, how to be alive through pain.”
― An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures
― An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures
“Admit I find everything strange and foreign. She finds a metaphor for her condition without defining it.
It is my concern for happiness that cause me the most anguish.
She now used him to perform her own tragedy for herself.”
― Passages
It is my concern for happiness that cause me the most anguish.
She now used him to perform her own tragedy for herself.”
― Passages
“You're coming home again. what does that mean?
Can there be anyone here who still needs you, who would still want to count you as his friend?
You're home, you've bought sweet wine to drink with supper, and staring out the window bit by bit
You come to see that you're the one who's guilty:
the only one. that's fine. thank god for that.
or maybe one should say, "thanks for small favors"
It's fine that there is no one else to blame,
It's fine that you are free of all connections,
It's fine that in this world there is no one who feels obliged to love you to distraction.
It's fine that no one ever took your arm and saw you to the door on a dark evening,
It's fine to walk, alone, in this vast world
toward home from the tumultuous railroad station
It's fine to catch yourself, while rushing home,
mouthing a phrase that's something less than candid;
You're suddenly aware that your own soul is very slow to take in what has happened.”
― Selected Poems, 1968-1996
Can there be anyone here who still needs you, who would still want to count you as his friend?
You're home, you've bought sweet wine to drink with supper, and staring out the window bit by bit
You come to see that you're the one who's guilty:
the only one. that's fine. thank god for that.
or maybe one should say, "thanks for small favors"
It's fine that there is no one else to blame,
It's fine that you are free of all connections,
It's fine that in this world there is no one who feels obliged to love you to distraction.
It's fine that no one ever took your arm and saw you to the door on a dark evening,
It's fine to walk, alone, in this vast world
toward home from the tumultuous railroad station
It's fine to catch yourself, while rushing home,
mouthing a phrase that's something less than candid;
You're suddenly aware that your own soul is very slow to take in what has happened.”
― Selected Poems, 1968-1996
Jess’s 2025 Year in Books
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