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Thread: Favorite poems and quotations.

  1. #161
    I sacrificed a goat to Zeus and I liked it
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    Quote Originally Posted by Chae View Post
    What's happening?
    Well, I was mostly kidding since I really don't know, but Andreas keeps joking about how he wants to die now, and then calling yourself a problem and solution in that context comes across "Just kill yourself already! You can do it!" I probably just outdid both of you in being dark and weird

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    “Why do we need the lyric poetry of the Psalms? ... Because the only way we can approach God is, if we’re honest, through metaphor, through symbol. So art becomes essential, not decorative.” - Bono

    If you're interested/bored, a stopped clock is right twice a day. Those are all pretty great quotes IMO, and they didn't spend the article interpreting them into Chopra quantum chakra peace crystal vibe quotes where they're kind of obviously not IMO (perhaps because their readers do that for them, which is even more disturbing to think about).

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    AS much as ‘twixt the close of the third hour
    And dawn of day appeareth of that sphere
    Which aye in fashion of a child is playing,

    So much it now appeared, towards the night,
    Was of his course remaining to the sun;
    There it was evening, and ’twas midnight here;

    And the rays smote the middle of our faces,
    Because by us the mount was so encircled,
    That straight towards the west we now were going

    When I perceived my forehead overpowered
    Beneath the splendour far more than at first,
    And stupor were to me the things unknown,

    Whereat towards the summit of my brow
    I raised my hands, and made myself the visor
    Which the excessive glare diminishes.

    As when from off the water, or a mirror,
    The sunbeam leaps unto the opposite side,
    Ascending upward in the selfsame measure

    That it descends, and deviates as far
    From falling of a stone in line direct,
    (As demonstrate experiment and art,)

    So it appeared to me that by a light
    Refracted there before me I was smitten;
    On which account my sight was swift to flee.

    “What is that, Father sweet, from which I cannot
    So fully screen my sight that it avail me,”
    Said I, “and seems towards us to be moving ?”

    “Marvel thou not, if dazzle thee as yet
    The family of heaven,” he answered me;
    “An angel ’tis, who comes to invite us upward.

    Soon will it be, that to behold these things
    Shall not be grievous, but delightful to thee
    As much as nature fashioned thee to feel.”

    When we had reached the Angel benedight,
    With joyful voice he said: “Here enter in
    To stairway far less steep than are the others.”

    We mounting were, already thence departed,
    And _”Beati misericordes”_ was
    Behind us sung, “Rejoice, thou that o’ercomest!”

    My Master and myself, we two alone
    Were going upward, and I thought, in going,
    Some profit to acquire from words of his;

    And I to him directed me, thus asking:
    “What did the spirit of Romagna mean,
    Mentioning interdict and partnership ?”

    Whence he to me: “Of his own greatest failing
    He knows the harm; and therefore wonder not
    If he reprove us, that we less may rue it

    Because are thither pointed your desires
    Where by companionship each share is lessened,
    Envy doth ply the bellows to your sighs.

    But if the love of the supernal sphere
    Should upwardly direct your aspiration,
    There would not be that fear within your breast;

    For there, as much the more as one says _Our,_
    So much the more of good each one possesses,
    And more of charity in that cloister burns.”

    “I am more hungering to be satisfied,”
    I said, “than if I had before been silent,
    And more of doubt within my mind I gather.

    How can it be, that boon distributed
    The more possessors can more wealthy make
    Therein, than if by few it be possessed ?”

    And he to me: “Because thou fixest still
    Thy mind entirely upon earthly things,
    Thou pluckest darkness from the very light.

    That goodness infinite and ineffable
    Which is above there, runneth unto love,
    As to a lucid body comes the sunbeam.

    So much it gives itself as it finds ardour,
    So that as far as charity extends,
    O’er it increases the eternal valour.

    And the more people thitherward aspire,
    More are there to love well, and more they love there,
    And, as a mirror, one reflects the other.

    And if my reasoning appease thee not,
    Thou shalt see Beatrice; and she will fully
    Take from thee this and every other longing.

    Endeavour, then, that soon may be extinct,
    As are the two already, the five wounds
    That close themselves again by being painful.”

    Even as I wished to say, “Thou dost appease me,”
    I saw that I had reached another circle,
    So that my eager eyes made me keep silence.

    There it appeared to me that in a vision
    Ecstatic on a sudden I was rapt,
    And in a temple many persons saw;

    And at the door a woman, with the sweet
    Behaviour of a mother, saying: “Son,
    Why in this manner hast thou dealt with us ?

    Lo, sorrowing, thy father and myself
    Were seeking for thee ;” — and as here she cease
    That which appeared at first had disappeared.

    Then I beheld another with those waters
    Adown her cheeks which grief distils whenever
    From great disdain of others it is born,

    And saying: “If of that city thou art lord,
    For whose name was such strife among the gods
    And whence doth every science scintillate,

    Avenge thyself on those audacious arms
    That clasped our daughter, O Pisistratus ,”
    And the lord seemed to me benign and mild

    To answer her with aspect temperate:
    “What shall we do to those who wish us ill,
    If he who loves us be by us condemned ?”

    Then saw I people hot in fire of wrath,
    With stones a young man slaying, clamorously
    Still crying to each other, “Kill him! kill him!”

    And him I saw bow down, because of death
    That weighed already on him, to the earth,
    But of his eyes made ever gates to heaven,

    Imploring the high Lord, in so great strife,
    That he would pardon those his persecutors,
    With such an aspect as unlocks compassion.

    Soon as my soul had outwardly returned
    To things external to it which are true,
    Did I my not false errors recognize.

    My Leader, who could see me bear myself
    Like to a man that rouses him from sleep,
    Exclaimed: “What ails thee, that thou canst not stand ?

    But hast been coming more than half a league
    Veiling thine eyes, and with thy legs entangled
    In guise of one whom wine or sleep subdues ? ‘

    “O my sweet Father, if thou listen to me,
    I’ll tell thee,” said I, “what appeared to me,
    When thus from me my legs were ta’en away.”

    And he: “If thou shouldst have a hundred masks
    Upon thy face, from me would not be shut
    Thy cogitations, howsoever small.

    What thou hast seen was that thou mayst not fail
    To ope thy heart unto the waters of peace
    Which from the eternal fountain are diffused.

    I did not ask, ‘ What ails thee ?’ as he does
    Who only looketh with the eyes that see not
    When of the soul bereft the body lies,

    But asked it to give vigour to thy feet;
    Thus must we needs urge on the sluggards, slow
    To use their wakefulness when it returns.”

    We passed along, athwart the twilight peering
    Forward as far as ever eye could stretch
    Against the sunbeams serotine and lucent;

    And lo! by slow degrees a smoke approached
    In our direction, sombre as the night,
    Nor was there place to hide one’s self therefrom.

    This of our eyes and the pure air bereft us.

  5. #165
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    Saturn’s moon may have hidden seas



    but here there is only the memory
    of her smiling. How the oceanic
    dark moved away when she came
    near the bed, tucking the covers
    around my small body. Moonlight
    washing the blankets while I dozed,
    her standing outside the door,
    dreaming of stars.


    Now people have discovered
    Titan may have hidden oceans
    beneath its ice and my mother
    lingers in the hallway until I tuck
    her into bed. Sometimes I wait
    in the doorway, listen to her breathe
    while the stars and moon spin
    in the corner of the window;
    darkness approaches like the tide.


    Come morning I learn there may be
    life in those hidden, sunless seas
    though my mother sleeps like the dead
    in her room. I don’t know if she dreams
    because the stars have receded
    into blue skies and I am no longer
    a child. No longer frightened.
    Even on Titan it’s possible the spirit
    lingers, concealed though it seems,
    spinning in the infinite darkness.



    Christine Klocek-Lim


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    'Wait, for now.
    Distrust everything if you have to.
    But trust the hours. Haven’t they
    carried you everywhere, up to now?
    Personal events will become interesting again.
    Hair will become interesting.
    Pain will become interesting.
    Buds that open out of season will become interesting.
    Second-hand gloves will become lovely again;
    their memories are what give them
    the need for other hands. The desolation
    of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
    carved out of such tiny beings as we are
    asks to be filled; the need
    for the new love is faithfulness to the old.

    Wait.
    Don’t go too early.
    You’re tired. But everyone’s tired.
    But no one is tired enough.
    Only wait a little and listen:
    music of hair,
    music of pain,
    music of looms weaving our loves again.
    Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
    most of all to hear your whole existence,
    rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.'


    “My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.”​ —C.G. Jung
     
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    A man thus grounded must, whether he wills or not, necessarily be attended by constant cheerfulness and a joy that is deep and issues from deep within, since he finds delight in his own resources, and desires no joys greater than his inner joys. Seneca

    The key is to keep company only with people who uplift you, whose presence calls forth your best. Epictetus

    What should we do then? Make the best use of what is in our power, and treat the rest in accordance with its nature. Epictetus
    Last edited by Moonbeaux Rainfox; 11-24-2016 at 10:00 PM.

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    “Have you ever had one of those moments when time just freezes? You
    know, when the world suddenly goes deathly still, and you could hear a
    pin drop, and the squishing sound your heart makes is so loud in your
    ears you feel like youre drowning in blood, and you stand there in that
    suspended moment and die a thousand deaths, but not really, and the
    moment passes and dumps you out on the other side of it, with your
    mouth hanging open, and an erased blackboard where your mind used to
    be?”

    “My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.”​ —C.G. Jung
     
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    back for the time being Chae's Avatar
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    By Rainer Maria Rilke.


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    Quote Originally Posted by Aylen View Post
    “Have you ever had one of those moments when time just freezes? You
    know, when the world suddenly goes deathly still, and you could hear a
    pin drop, and the squishing sound your heart makes is so loud in your
    ears you feel like youre drowning in blood, and you stand there in that
    suspended moment and die a thousand deaths, but not really, and the
    moment passes and dumps you out on the other side of it, with your
    mouth hanging open, and an erased blackboard where your mind used to
    be?”
    All in a second..

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    "I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore except I
    know it feels roomy and it’s drenched in sunlight and it’s weightless and I
    know it’s not cheap. It’s probably not even real."


    Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

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    "Suddenly night crushed out the day and hurled
    Her remnants over cloud-peaks, thunder-walled.
    Then fell a stillness such as harks appalled
    When far-gone dead return upon the world.

    There watched I for the Dead; but no ghost woke.
    Each one whom Life exiled I named and called.
    But they were all too far, or dumbed, or thralled,
    And never one fared back to me or spoke.

    Then peered the indefinite unshapen dawn
    With vacant gloaming, sad as half-lit minds,
    The weak-limned hour when sick men's sighs are drained.
    And while I wondered on their being withdrawn,
    Gagged by the smothering Wing which none unbinds,
    I dreaded even a heaven with doors so chained."

    “My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.”​ —C.G. Jung
     
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    "The path is the destination"

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    "The metaphysics of yesterday is the physics of today."

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    "Please tell a story about a girl who gets away.” I would, even if I had to adapt one, even if I had to make one up just for her. “Gets away from what, though?” “From her fairy godmother. From the happy ending that isn’t really happy at all. Please have her get out and run off the page altogether, to somewhere secret where words like ‘happy’ and ‘good’ will never find her.” “You don’t want her to be happy and good?” “I’m not sure what’s really meant by happy and good. I would like her to be free. Now. Please begin.
    —Helen Oyeyemi, White is for Witching

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    I can relate to one half of the poem "Alone" by Edgar Allan Poe.
    I find it illustrates well what it is like to be Type 4 (in his and my case, 4w5).

    From childhood’s hour I have not been
    As others were—I have not seen
    As others saw—I could not bring
    My passions from a common spring—
    From the same source I have not taken
    My sorrow—I could not awaken
    My heart to joy at the same tone—
    And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
    New Youtube [x] Get Typed! [x]
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    *********** 21-04-19:
    "Looks like a mystic that just arrived to battle and staring out at the battle, ready to unleash"



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    Following a bunch of my favourite quotes, in no specific order.



    "The most important thing to develop in human beings is a sense of love, and an understanding of unconditional love. I’m not talking about the love towards a specific person, but love in a general sense; for life, for the planet, for purely existing."
    — Marina Abramović


    “Those who are able to see beyond the shadows and lies of their culture will never be understood, let alone believed, by the masses.”
    — Plato


    "Life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think."
    — Horace Walpole


    “The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.”
    ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray


    “The further a society drifts from truth the more it will hate those who speak it.”
    — George Orwell


    “The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself.”
    — Albert Camus


    "Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something, and that this thing, at whatever cost, must be attained."
    — Marie Curie


    “Understand me. I’m not like an ordinary world. I have my madness, I live in another dimension and I do not have time for things that have no soul.”
    — Charles Bukowski


    "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will (...)."
    — Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre


    “Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.”
    — Marcus Aurelius


    "But I don’t want comfort. I want poetry. I want danger. I want freedom. I want goodness. I want sin."
    – Aldous Huxley, Brave New World


    "The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death — however mutable man may be able to make them — our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfillment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light."
    – Stanley Kubrick
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    *********** 21-04-19:
    "Looks like a mystic that just arrived to battle and staring out at the battle, ready to unleash"



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    "Where civilization entailed the corruption of barbarian virtues and the creation of dependent people, I decided, I was opposed to civilization."

    - J.M. Coetzee, Waiting for the Barbarians

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    “My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.”​ —C.G. Jung
     
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    asd.jpg

    I got a new rash guard.

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    Come On Eileen (excerpt) ~ Dexys Midnight Runners

    These people round here
    Wear beaten down eyes sunk
    In smoke dried faces
    They're so resigned to what their fate is
    But not us (no not ever)
    But not us (not ever)
    We are far too young and clever
    (Remember)
    Too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye, aye
    And you'll hum this tune forever

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    I've been reading about reincarnation, and the Buddhists say we come back as animals and they refer to them as lesser beings. Well, animals aren't lesser beings, they're just like us. So I say fuck the Buddhists.

    ~ Björk

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    That virtue we appreciate is as much ours as another's. We see so much only as we possess. -- Henry David Thoreau

    All the good are friends of one another. -- Zeno of Citium

    Let no one persuade you by word or deed to do or say whatever is not best for you. -- Pythagoras

    Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves. -- Carl Jung
    What is a utopia? A dream unrealized, but not unrealizable. -- Joseph Dejacque
    EII (INFj) - 9w1 - INFP - Scorpio - Hufflepuff
    Johari - Fediverse

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    "I am groot"

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    This is the way the world ends
    Not with a bang but a whimper.

    T S Eliot, The Hollow Men

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    You know what the scariest thing is? To not know your place in this world.
    To not know why you're here... That's... That's just an awful feeling.


    Elijah Price, Unbreakable

    --

    When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
    You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.


    Billy, aged 4.

    --

    And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no
    one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live.


    Stephen King, The Dark Tower

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    we wuz kings n shit fam

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    “Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom.
    Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.
    If you realize that you have enough, you are truly rich.”

    “My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.”​ —C.G. Jung
     
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    Quote Originally Posted by Aylen View Post
    “Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom.
    Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.
    If you realize that you have enough, you are truly rich.”
    Nothing is ever enough, my friend.

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    Strange that men, from age to age, should consent to hold their lives at the breath of another, merely that each in his turn may have a power of acting the tyrant according to the law! Oh, God! give me poverty! Shower upon me all the imaginary hardships of human life! I will receive them with all thankfulness. Turn me a prey to the wild beasts of the desert, so I be never again the victim of man, dressed in the gore-dripping robes of authority! Suffer me at least to call life, the pursuits of life, my own! Let me hold it at the mercy of the elements, of the hunger of the beasts, or the revenge of barbarians, but not of the cold-blooded prudence of monopolists and kings!

    William Godwin

  33. #193
    Landlord of the Dog and Duck Subteigh's Avatar
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    I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.

    Sylvia Plath

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    “My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.”​ —C.G. Jung
     
    YWIMW

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    c esi-se 6w7 spsx ashlesha's Avatar
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    Sylvia Plath is my favorite poet. She was not only a descendant of Modernism and the Romantics, she was a poet that cared about her own feelings so much that she cared about yours. She had some fucked up shit happen in her life, but who cares about that? We all suffer and that has everything to do with poetics. Have you ever heard of Modernism? The Nazis called Modernism primitive and the work of the brutes. The only brutes on this earth are the dogs and those are the things that I love. Do you wonder what I am? You are reading the work of a great poet, possibly one of the greatest ones of your time. If I am standing in front of you right now, you are listening to the voice of one of the greatest poets of your time. Do you take time to analyze greatness? I don’t think you should bother–you will never get it right. I am both a Modernist and a Romantic. All poetry that is good today is some combination of modernism, ethics, and faith. Take note. All poetry that matters today has feelings in it. You can refute or deny this with your lack of them. You can wrestle against feelings and make funny words for it. Take a look in the mirror. You were born a child and you will die one, too. When you are in your grave all that you will be able to say is mommy. You are going to die you know and so am I. That’s it. You were born to die. Take the things you say because you can’t write poems and figure out how to write some. Go to the grocery store and buy some food. Sit alone by yourself and think of how it is, the way it really is. There are a million cells of fluid rushing in your veins. On earth a thousand rivers rush through. The only thing that keeps you contained is the faith God has in your every breath. When you are mean, you let him down, so don’t be. Read Plath. Hell, Read Stein. She was a woman and would have approved of you–you man, you woman, you dog. Bark your last breath while we all swim along a river. There are children playing around you. They know more than you will ever know.
    —“The Poetry That is Going to Matter After You are Dead,” Dorothea Lasky

  36. #196
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    I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
    Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
    I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate.
    All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.
    Time to die.


    Roy Batty, Blade Runner

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    Why did god create a dual universe?
    So he might say
    ‘Be not like me. I am alone.'
    And it might be heard.

    Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

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    Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly;
    Man got to sit and wonder 'why, why, why?'
    Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land;
    Man got to tell himself he understand.

    Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle

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    Oh, a sleeping drunkard
    Up in Central Park,
    And a lion-hunter
    In the jungle dark,
    And a Chinese dentist,
    And a British queen--
    All fit together
    In the same machine.
    Nice, nice, very nice;
    Nice, nice, very nice;
    Nice, nice, very nice--
    So many different people
    In the same device.

    Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle


    Nowhere and oblivion were completely different things/places to Richard Stein. For
    him, oblivion is when something goes into nothing and nowhere is the place where
    something can come out of nothing.


    Carlton Mellick III, Satan Burger

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    c esi-se 6w7 spsx ashlesha's Avatar
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    Not to suppress suffering (the stupid notion that time will do away with such a thing) but to change it, transform it, to shift it from a static stage (stasis, obstruction, recurrences of the same thing) to a fluid state.
    —Roland Barthes, tr. by Richard Howard, from a diary entry featured in Mourning Diary

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