Sunday, May 27, 2012

quoth the madman

“From childhood's hour I have not been. As others were, I have not seen. As others saw, I could not awaken. My heart to joy at the same tone. And all I loved, I loved alone.”
~Edgar Allan Poe

vanitas I

vanitas II

Thursday, May 24, 2012

quoth the madman

"Existence is a party. You join after its started and you leave before its finished."
~Elsa Maxwell 

quoth the madman

“We who proudly make unto ourselves every graven image,
shall have great copulations and are allowed to love our Gods,
for we know the Sacred Alignments.”
~Austin Osman Spare

from the phantasmal library

"Well! Good-morning then... Or shall I say 'Good-Afternoon'? What's this? It appears your usually overwhelming scent of absence has now all but wholly vanished, yet it seems to have had a most disagreeable effect on your nimbus. Oh dear, but no matter, at least now I can see you more clearly across the breakfast table without the use of my tinted glasses..."

Monday, May 21, 2012

Avoir le Vin Triste (Non esattamente)

"Beware those who seek constant crowds; they are nothing alone."
~Charles Bukowski

Literacki

I’m tired of monotheism.
I, for one, for many, prefer the cockroach
emerging from the ivy, reading
the night with quivering antennae,
the fat rattlesnake that turned me back
out of the canyon’s rocky throat,
presences in a hallway of willows.
Yesterday we scrubbed slippery, clayish mud
from the season’s first potatoes, their irregular
roundnesses all the psalms my palms ever wanted.
I traveled more than half a life
to get here—just don’t ask me how.
I left the cat sleeping beneath the morning table
and walked out along the dry rain ditch that runs
behind neighborhoods stunned by heat, past grass banks
burnt the color of hay, faltering cinder-block walls,
waves of orange trumpet and grape vines
breaking over fences, a tree house rotting
in the green branches of the mulberry, its tenant
having long since descended.
I walk toward mountains I will not reach,
toward my death, but the mourning doves
and sumacs walk their own stories.
One minute I’m alone, and the next
belongs to leaves and ghosts. How many voices
have frequented that catalpa? Who is wandering
my blood? I build a shrine in my feet
for worlds to come through. I let the wind
arrange the windows.

~Jay Udall ~ Pilgrimage

Avoir le Vin Triste (Non esattamente)

“There comes a time when you look into the mirror and you realize that what you see is all that you will ever be. And then you accept it. Or you kill yourself. Or you stop looking in mirrors.”
~Tennessee Williams

Friday, May 18, 2012

quoth the madman

“It is precisely because our present life is so inseparably linked with desire that we must make use of desire’s tremendous energy if we wish to transform our life into something transcendental."
—Lama Thubten Yeshe

literacki

“Life is a question of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which thought hides itself and passion has its dreams. You may fancy yourself safe and think yourself strong. But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play… I tell you, that it is on things like these that our lives depend."
—Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

literacki

“I have wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but somehow I am still in love with life. This ridiculous weakness is perhaps one of our more stupid melancholy propensities, for is there anything more stupid than to be eager to go on carrying a burden which one would gladly throw away, to loathe one’s very being and yet to hold it fast, to fondle the snake that devours us until it has eaten our hearts away?”
― Voltaire  -  Candide: or, Optimism

quoth the madman

Be as a tower firmly set; Shakes not its top for any blast that blows.
~Dante Alighieri
video

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

quoth the madman

"I am a born antinomian. I am one of those who are made for exceptions, not for laws. But while I see that there is nothing wrong in what one does, I see that there is something wrong in what one becomes."
~Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Quoth the madman

But I am not perfect in my way of putting things because I lack the divine simplicity of being only what I appear to be.
—Fernando Pessoa

quoth the madman

“What can I expect from myself? My sensation in all their horrible acuity, and a profound awareness of feeling. A sharp mind that only destroys me, and an unusual capacity for dreaming to keep me entertained. A dead will and a reflection that cradles it, like a living child."
~Fernando Pessoa

Saturday, May 12, 2012

ars poetica


There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
 
From Childe Harold
Canto IV, Verse 178
Lord Byron

ars poetica

SLEEP IS NOT, DEATH IS NOT;
WHO SEEM TO DIE LIVE.
HOUSE YOU WERE BORN IN,
FRIENDS OF YOUR SPRING-TIME,
OLD MAN AND YOUNG MAID,
DAYS TOIL AND ITS GUERDON,
THEY ARE ALL VANISHING,
FLEEING TO FABLES,
CANNOT BE MOORED.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

quoth the madman

“Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we’re still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It’s all the same impulse. What do we get from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?
At the very least we want a witness. We can’t stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio winding down."
—Margaret Atwood

Friday, May 11, 2012

literaki

“(You have ghosts?)
(Of course I have ghosts.)
(What are your ghosts like?)
(They are on the inside of the lids of my eyes.)
(This is also where my ghosts reside.)
(You have ghosts?)
(Of course I have ghosts.)
(But you are a child.)
(I am not a child.)
(But you have not known love.)
(These are my ghosts, the spaces amid love.)"
—Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

literaki

"A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages."
—Tennessee Williams

quoth the madman

“Ninety-nine percent of the world’s lovers are not with their first choice. That’s what makes the jukebox play."
—Willie Nelson

Literacki

“I discovered that my obsession for having each thing in the right place, each subject at the right time, each word in the right style, was not the well-deserved reward of an ordered mind but just the opposite: a complete system of pretense invented by me to hide the disorder of my nature. I discovered that I am not disciplined out of virtue but as a reaction to my negligence, that I appear generous in order to conceal my meanness, that I pass myself off as prudent because I am evil-minded, that I am conciliatory in order not to succumb to my repressed rage, that I am punctual only to hide how little I care about other people’s time. I learned, in short, that love is not a condition of the spirit but a sign of the zodiac."
—Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores

Deuteronomy 14:21

Do not eat anything you find already dead. You may give it to an alien living in any of your towns, and he may eat it, or you may sell it to a foreigner. But you are a people holy to the LORD your God. Do not cook a young goat in its mother's milk. (NIV)