Anne Carson Quotes
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We're talking about the struggle to drag a thought over from the mush of the unconscious into some kind of grammar, syntax, human sense; every attempt means starting over with language. Starting over with accuracy.
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No need to fear death. There will be a tunnel and light.
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Beauty spins and the mind moves. To catch beauty would be to understand how that impertinent stability in vertigo is possible. But no, delight need not reach so far. To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.
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Now every mortal has pain and sweat is constant, but if there is anything dearer than being alive, it's dark to me. We humans seem disastrously in love with this thing (whatever it is) that glitters on the earth-- we call it life. We know no other. The underworld's a blank and all the rest just fantasy.
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It is easier to tell a story of how people wound one another than of what binds them together.
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Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.
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Sometimes a journey makes itself necessary.
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Sometimes I dream a sentence and write it down. It’s usually nonsense, but sometimes it seems a key to another world.
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What makes life life and not a simple story? Jagged bits moving never still, all along the wall.
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Poetry - poiesis means a thing made.
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Philosophy - hopeless. Yet it gives me hope.
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That night we made love "the real way" which we had not yet attempted although married six months. Big mystery. No one knew where to put their leg and to this day I'm not sure we got it right. He seemed happy. You're like Venice he said beautifully. Early next day I wrote a short talk "On Defloration" which he stole and had published in a small quarterly magazine. Overall this was a characteristic interaction between us. Or should I say ideal. Neither of us had ever seen Venice.
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Give me a world, you have taken the world I was.
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Desire is no light thing.
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A refugee population is hungry for language and aware that anything can happen.
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Lava bread makes you passionate.
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I never really got over the fun of making letters.
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What is the fear inside language? No accident of the body can make it stop burning.
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When I desire you a part of me is gone.