Human Hours Quotes

Rate this book
Clear rating
Human Hours: Poems Human Hours: Poems by Catherine Barnett
269 ratings, 4.03 average rating, 36 reviews
Open Preview
Human Hours Quotes Showing 1-17 of 17
“Which was it? Which will it be? Solitude, misery, love?”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“Solitude, and misery, may be necessary for a certain kind of work. You have to feel it first and if you've felt it you can just write the thing without explaining anything about it.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
There must be an aesthetic besides death
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“Come morning I'll make a list of obsessions
and maybe you won't still be on it”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“Play any film backward and it's elegy.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“Who needs a lifetime?”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“Adversity is when a hero's two options are both bad.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“YOU WERE HERE

says the silvery green light of time
breathing in and out like any mortal”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“Lately I've been walking around talking to myself, who is full of swearing and disbelief.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“There is no boundary between the living and the dead”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“Jean once told me she's not interested in writing about getting older but about
getting dead.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“Hadn't I wanted to be known like that?
Seen from the inside, lit from within”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“Mostly I'd like to feel a little less, know a little more.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“and in these dreams I was participant and observer

as I am again now, dreaming of writing this.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“I drove into the woods and there it was,
shining like the human mind.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
“but like a darkness slowly advancing,
like winter lightning,

we are drawn together.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems
Enchantée, says the key in my hand.
When I try to turn it, it turns to sand.”
Catherine Barnett, Human Hours: Poems