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“Poem for My Mother Come here, Mama, we’ll keep each other company, Like the tiles of our house, Like the trees at our house, Like Jesus and Joseph and the mother of God. Come here, Mama, we’ll talk to each other Of things that happen in the forest, at night, Of things that happen in the heart, at night, Of lightning that scorches the sky. Come here, Mama, we’ll sing together Melodies that put sobbing to sleep, Songs that make the dead dance, Tunes that comfort, bring joy.”
― When I Sing, Mountains Dance
― When I Sing, Mountains Dance
“Love leaped out in front of us like a murderer in an alley leaping out of nowhere, and struck us both at once. As lightning strikes, as a Finnish knife strikes! She, by the way, insisted afterwards that it wasn’t so, that we had, of course, loved each other for a long, long time, without knowing each other, never having seen each other… ”
― The Master and Margarita
― The Master and Margarita
“199. For to wish to forget how much you loved someone—and then, to actually forget—can feel, at times, like the slaughter of a beautiful bird who chose, by nothing short of grace, to make a habitat of your heart.”
― Bluets
― Bluets
“The half-circle of blinding turquoise ocean is this love’s primal scene. That this blue exists makes my life a remarkable one, just to have seen it. To have seen such beautiful things. To find oneself placed in their midst. Choiceless. I returned there yesterday and stood again upon the mountain.”
― Bluets
― Bluets
“44. [...] later that afternoon, a therapist will say to me, "If he hadn’t lied to you, he would have been a different person than he is." She is trying to get me to see that although I thought I loved this man very completely for exactly who he was, I was in fact blind to the man he actually was, or is.
45. This pains me enormously. She presses me to say why; I can’t answer. Instead I say something about how clinical psychology forces everything we call love into the pathological or the delusional or the biologically explicable, that if what I was feeling wasn’t love then I am forced to admit that I don’t know what love is, or, more simply, that I loved a bad man. How all of these formulations drain the blue right out of love and leave an ugly, pigmentless fish flapping on a cutting board on a kitchen counter.”
― Bluets
45. This pains me enormously. She presses me to say why; I can’t answer. Instead I say something about how clinical psychology forces everything we call love into the pathological or the delusional or the biologically explicable, that if what I was feeling wasn’t love then I am forced to admit that I don’t know what love is, or, more simply, that I loved a bad man. How all of these formulations drain the blue right out of love and leave an ugly, pigmentless fish flapping on a cutting board on a kitchen counter.”
― Bluets
Imogen’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Imogen’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by Imogen
Lists liked by Imogen
