“That perhaps is your task–to find the relation between things that seem incompatible yet have a mysterious affinity, to absorb every experience that comes your way fearlessly and saturate it completely so that your poem is a whole, not a fragment; to re-think human life into poetry and so give us tragedy again and comedy by means of characters not spun out at length in the novelist’s way, but condensed and synthesized in the poet’s way–that is what we look to you to do now.” ― Virginia Woolf Photograph:...
“But sleep? On a night like this? What an idea! Just think of how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.” ― Franz Kafka
“Without words, without writing and without books there would be no history, there could be no concept of humanity.” ― Hermann Hesse
“A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.” ― Franz Kafka
“You know I have friends who used to laugh at me when I said we have to create a relationship. They thought relationship is a miracle, it just happens, it comes, we find it, and there it is. But it’s not true. I never found that to be true. One friend was amazed at things that happened in a relationship over the years. And I said: “Yes, we created that. This friendship was created with talking, with struggle, with crises.” So wait until you feel right within yourself, and...
“Every generation imagines itself to be more intelligent than the one that went before it, and wiser than the one that comes after it.” ― George Orwell
“We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep. It’s as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out windows, or drown themselves, or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us are slowly devoured by some disease, or, if we’re very fortunate, by time itself. There’s just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds & expectations, to burst open & give us everything we’ve ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they)...
“The sigh of all the seas breaking in measure round the isles soothed them; the night wrapped them; nothing broke their sleep, until, the birds beginning and the dawn weaving their thin voices in to its whiteness” ― Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
“It is when one begins to lose the consciousness of freedom, and when the idea of necessity enters the world at all, when there is any hurry or strain anywhere, a letter to be written or a train to catch, when you have got to work, to make the horses of the dream gallop, or to make the rifles go off, that the dream is declining, and turning into the nightmare, which belongs to the poorest and most vulgar class of dreams.” ― Karen Blixen, Out of Africa
“Ach, Tchekov! Why are you dead? Why can’t I talk to you in a big darkish room at late evening—where the light is green from the waving trees outside? I’d like to write a series of Heavens: that would be one.” ― Katherine Mansfield, Journal of Katherine Mansfield Katherine Mansfield playing the cello, Queen’s College, Harley Street, London, between 1903-1905