8Eight8

“April is the cruelest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.”
― T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

“In discourse more sweet
(For Eloquence the Soul, Song charms the Sense)
Others apart sat on a hill retired,
In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high
Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate-
Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute,
And found no end, in wandering mazes lost.
Of good and evil much they argued then,
Of happiness and final misery,
Passion and apathy, and glory and shame:
Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy!-
Yet, with a pleasing sorcery, could charm
Pain for a while or anguish, and excite
Fallacious hope, or arm th' obdurate breast
With stubborn patience as with triple steel.”
― John Milton, Paradise Lost

“All night I flee from someone. I lead the chase, I lead the fugue. I sing a song of mourning. Black birds over black shrouds. My brain cries.”
― Alejandra Pizarnik, The Galloping Hour: French Poems

“1 de enero

Que este año me sea dado vivir en mí y no fantasear ni ser otras, que me sea dado ponerme buena y no buscar lo imposible sino la magia y extrañeza de este mundo que habito. Que me sean dados los deseos de vivir y conocer el mundo. Que me sea dado el interesarme por este mundo.”
― Alejandra Pizarnik