April 2011
40 posts
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“We are about to part,” said Neville. “Here are the boxes; here are the cabs. There is Percival in his billycock hat. He will forget me. He will leave my letters lying about among guns and dogs unanswered. I shall send him poems and he will perhaps reply with a picture post card. But it is for that that I love him. I shall propose a meeting - under a clock, by some Cross; and shall wait and he will not come. It is for that that I love him.”
—Virginia Woolf The Waves
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“It has this glow. The beautiful blue creates a glow on the wall when it rests on the floor. And when you look at it, you can think about so many things. You can think of the sky. You can think about water. You can think about pleasant things that are related to that kind of light blue. I know it has a gender connotation; you can’t get away from that. But I also meant it as this beautiful blank page onto which you can project anything you want, any image, whatever.”
—Félix González Torres in conversation with Tim Rollins, 1993.
“One must be able to think back to roads in unknown regions … to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along on high and flew with all the stars—and it is not yet enough if one may think of all of this. One must have memories of many nights of love … one must also have been beside the dying, must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the fitful noises. And still is is not yet enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not till they have turned to blood within us, to glance and gesture, nameless and no longer can be distinguished from ourselves - not till then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them.”
—Rainer Maria Rilke
“I take my arm away from my eyes. It is the white dress-
ing gown.
He stands there, looking down at me. Not sure of him-
self, his mean eyes flickering.
He doesn’t say anything. Thank God, he doesn’t say
anything. I look straight into his eyes and despise another
poor devil of a human being for the last time. For the
last time…
Then I put my arms round him and pull him down on
the bed, saying: ‘Yes - yes - yes….’” —
ing gown.
He stands there, looking down at me. Not sure of him-
self, his mean eyes flickering.
He doesn’t say anything. Thank God, he doesn’t say
anything. I look straight into his eyes and despise another
poor devil of a human being for the last time. For the
last time…
Then I put my arms round him and pull him down on
the bed, saying: ‘Yes - yes - yes….’” —
Jean Rhys
Good Morning, Midnight
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