Snub end of a dismal year, deep in the dwarf orchard, The sky with its undercoat of blackwash and point stars, I stand in the dark and answer to My life, this shirt I want to take off, which is on fire . . .
Some people have everything Other people don't But everything don't mean a thing If it ain't the thing you want - Charles Wright
Some people have everything Other people don't But everything don't mean a thing If it ain't the thing you want
- Charles Wright
If you want great tranquility/ It's hard work and a long walk - Charles Wright
If you want great tranquility/ It's hard work and a long walk
It’s up there, and you can see the front of it. But what it is isn’t what you’re looking at. It’s behind what you’re looking at. - Charles Wright
It’s up there, and you can see the front of it. But what it is isn’t what you’re looking at. It’s behind what you’re looking at.
We've all led raucous lives, some of them inside, some of them out. But only the poem you leave behind is what's important. Everyone knows this. The … - Charles Wright
We've all led raucous lives, some of them inside, some of them out. But only the poem you leave behind is what's important. Everyone knows this. The …
What makes us leave what we love best? What is it inside us that keeps erasing itself When we need it most, That sends us into uncertainty for its ow… - Charles Wright
What makes us leave what we love best? What is it inside us that keeps erasing itself When we need it most, That sends us into uncertainty for its ow…
It may not be written in any book, but it is written - You can't go back, you can't repeat the unrepeatable. - Charles Wright
It may not be written in any book, but it is written - You can't go back, you can't repeat the unrepeatable.
Everyone knows this. The voyage into the interior is all that matters, Whatever your ride. - Charles Wright
Everyone knows this. The voyage into the interior is all that matters, Whatever your ride.
The music of memory has its own pitch,/which not everyone hears. - Charles Wright
The music of memory has its own pitch,/which not everyone hears.
The ache for anything is a thick dust in the heart. - Charles Wright
The ache for anything is a thick dust in the heart.
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