It seems to me that the desire to make art produces an ongoing experience of longing, a restlessness sometimes, but not inevitably, played out romantically, or sexually. Always there seems something ahead, the next poem or story, visible, at least, apprehensible, but unreachable. To perceive it at all is to be haunted by it; some sound, some tone, becomes a torment — the poem embodying that sound seems to exist somewhere already finished. It’s like a lighthouse, except that, as one swims towards it, it backs away.
Without thinking, I knelt in the grass, like someone meaning to pray. When I tried to stand again, I couldn't move, my legs were utterly rigid. Does … - Louise GlüCk
Without thinking, I knelt in the grass, like someone meaning to pray. When I tried to stand again, I couldn't move, my legs were utterly rigid. Does …
- Louise GlüCk
The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams. - Louise GlüCk
The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams.
I’m like the child who buries her head in the pillow so as not to see, the child who tells herself that light causes sadness— - Louise GlüCk
I’m like the child who buries her head in the pillow so as not to see, the child who tells herself that light causes sadness—
What was difficult was the travel, which, on arrival, is forgotten. - Louise GlüCk
What was difficult was the travel, which, on arrival, is forgotten.
The advantage of poetry over life is that poetry, if it is sharp enough, may last. - Louise GlüCk
The advantage of poetry over life is that poetry, if it is sharp enough, may last.
We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory. - Louise GlüCk
We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.
At the end of my suffering/there was a door. - Louise GlüCk
At the end of my suffering/there was a door.
From the beginning of time, in childhood, I thought that pain meant I was not loved. It meant I loved. - Louise GlüCk
From the beginning of time, in childhood, I thought that pain meant I was not loved. It meant I loved.
Intense love always leads to mourning. - Louise GlüCk
Intense love always leads to mourning.
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