Achernar

“I keep turning away from speaking of your letter. I feel — to speak of it would be to contain what it did to me, to make it small. I don't want to do that. I suppose in some ways she I 'm more Garden' s child than she knows. Even poetry, which breaks language into meaning — poetry ossifies time, the way trees do. What’s supple, whipping, soft, and fresh grows hard, grows armor. If I could touch you, put my in finger to your temple and sink you into me the way Garden does — perhaps then. But I would never.
So this letter instead.”
― Amal El-Mohtar, This Is How You Lose the Time War

“Stardust

If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you. Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you. Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I.


When we leave this world, we give up all our possessions and our memories. Love is the only thing we take with us. It is all we carry from one life to the next.”
― Lang Leav, Memories

“The airy sky has taken its place leaning against the wall.
It is like a prayer to what is empty.
And what is empty turns its face to us
and whispers:
‘I am not empty, I am open.’

from “Vermeer,” The Winged Energy of Delight. Translation by Robert Bly. (Harper Perennial May 10, 2005)”
― Tomas Tranströmer

“While we were developing common sense, she studied the blade.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth