Self Portrait @Selfportrait527

"As far as I am concerned, I resign from humanity. I no longer want to be, nor can still be, a man. ... I renounce my humanity even though I may find myself alone. But am I not already alone in this world from which I no longer expect anything ?" Emil Cioran

“A deep-down, unalterable mournfulness is in me. . . . Away, ye chattering apes of a sophomorean Spinoza and Plato, who once didst all but delude me that night was day, and pain only a tickle. Explain this darkness, exorcise this devil, ye cannot.” —Herman Melville, Pierre

We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were.

If there is one question I dread, to which I have never been able to invent a satisfactory reply, it is the question what am I doing.

Oh, nothing, just Sylvia Plath reading The Applicant, my all-time favorite poem in the English language, on her 90th birthday.

That's the mistake I made, one of the mistakes, to have wanted a story for myself, whereas life alone is enough.

When my body won't hold me anymore And it finally lets me free Will I be ready?

Noli Timere.

No fear, no envy, no meanness, no cruelty, just kindness. If only....

Ignorance by Philip Larkin @all_poetry allpoetry.com/8495719

Meditation is not just a rest or retreat from the turmoil of the stream or the impurity of the world. It is a way of being the stream, so that one can be at home in both the white water and the eddies. Meditation may take one out of the world, but it also puts one totally into it

poets.org/poem/home-so-s…

A woodpecker Drums and echoes Across the still meadow

Well, it's a shin-kick morning thats gotta kickstart this day Wind up my machine and I'll be on my way.

Its your choice, confront the pain or live in fear.

She was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

When I can look life in the eyes, grown calm and very coldly wise, life will have given me the truth, and taken in exchange - my youth. Sara Teasdale

I feel the spring far off, far off, The faint, far scent of bud and leaf— Oh, how can spring take heart to come To a world in grief, Deep grief? —Sara Teasdale poets.org/poem/spring-wa…

—Jack Kerouac, born #OTD in 1922 poets.org/poem/one-flower