I Remember Thinking My Father Was Mean But Knowing He Was Kind. I Remember Thinking My Father Was Kind
I remember thinking my father was mean but knowing he was kind. I remember thinking my father was kind but knowing he was mean.
Mary Ruefle, Woodtangle
More Posts from Moonmovement and Others
What sense is there in pain at all - however we contrive it for ourselves as we cast about for ways to bind up the wound between us and God?
Anne Carson, Kinds of Water
We teeter / on the brink of time, you and I, he, she, / all of us, all so worthy of pity.
Maria Bigoszewska, tr. Regina Grol
let yourself be a living part of death
Garous Abdolmalekian, Forest tr. Ahmed Nadalizadeh and Idra Novey
but indirectly children know everything there is to know. They just don't know why.
Nancy Milford, Savage Beauty
The true and serious beauty of trees, how it seemed insane that they should offer this to us, how unworthy we were, bewildered how soon we were nearly weeping at their trunks as they tossed down petal after petal, and we tried to remember how it felt to receive and notice the receiving
Ada Limón, Hooky
The first thing you ever did was cry.
- Heather Christle, The Crying Book
her eyes are pure stars, and her fingers, if they touch you, freeze you to the bone.
- Virginia Woolf, Orlando
the smoke / carries my longing / - to Heaven
Barbara Brandys, By the Fire tr. Regina Grol
If I had a prayer, it would say, Let this not be a mirror to the past, nor a window to the future. Let each night be only itself.
- Heather Christle, The Crying Book
