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“Your body is a hyacinth,
Into which a monk dips his waxy fingers.
Our silence is a black cavern,
From which a soft animal steps at times
And slowly lowers heavy eyelids.
On your temples black dew drips,
The last gold of expired stars”
―
Into which a monk dips his waxy fingers.
Our silence is a black cavern,
From which a soft animal steps at times
And slowly lowers heavy eyelids.
On your temples black dew drips,
The last gold of expired stars”
―
“There’s a monument due me by rank already
I’d blow the damn thing up with dynamite
So strongly I hate every kind of dead thing
So much I adore every kind of life!”
―
I’d blow the damn thing up with dynamite
So strongly I hate every kind of dead thing
So much I adore every kind of life!”
―
“I love three things, I then say. I love a dream of love I once had, I love you, and I love this patch of earth.
And which do you love best?
The dream.”
― Pan
And which do you love best?
The dream.”
― Pan
“When one burns one's bridges, what a very nice fire it makes.”
―
―
“Psychoanalysis has taught that the dead – a dead parent, for example – can be more alive for us, more powerful, more scary, than the living. It is the question of ghosts.”
―
―
Clay’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Clay’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
599 books
|
392 friends
495 books
|
88 friends
621 books
|
92 friends
0 books
|
32 friends
57 books
|
60 friends
0 books
|
135 friends
467 books
|
60 friends
70 books
|
77 friends
More friends…
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