On her fifteenth birthday
she pricked her finger
on a charred spinning wheel
and the clocks stopped.

--Briar Rose, Anne Sexton

What is the nature of time? Does the clock truly measure it? Does the ticking pull along the track of events, a belt along a cog?

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow," wrote the bard. But when tomorrow comes, it has ( Read more... )

I am, in the words of the Monty Python character, not dead, yet ( Read more... )

For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown
For whom none will go mourning

--Lou Reed, "All Tomorrow's Parties"

Can you say that you have broken off with someone who says that you were not dating?

If you love me, but you do not sleep with me, are you protected from the L word? If you sleep in my bed, but we make no love, can you tell yourself that it means nothing? Would it be so bad, if we kissed? Would it be the end of the world if I made you sigh? Why do you pull me close, only to push me away?

I come in from a walk
With you
And they ask me
If it is raining.

I didn’t notice
But I’ll have to give them
The right answer
Or they’ll think I’m crazy.

--"The Masks of Love," Alden Nowlan
Asleep, she is like a statue which breathes. She has the sheet wrapped about her, tangled like a winding sheet. How fragile she is, how artlessly artistic her ( Read more... )

Come fuggiste, o belle ore serene!
Dilettevol quaggiù null’altro dura,
Né si ferma giammai, se non la spene.

--Giacomo Leopardi, Canto XXXIX

We did watch the movie; we did. "He is so pretty," she sighed, as she held my hand. Later, I held her in my arms, and we looked at the star. "It is only a planet," I said.

I'll give you my time and money
I'll give you somewhere to sleep
But don't ask me for my heart and soul
My love is only skin deep

Melissa Etheridge, "Skin Deep," Brave and Crazy

Ask me for my heart and soul. Please. Ask me for anything; let me know you know I exist.

Contrary to public rumor, I do have feelings, and it is possible to hurt them. Do not take me to task for being harsh when you have just slapped me in my feelings; it will only lead to me being more harsh.

Speak, O desolate city! Speak, O silence in sadness!
Where is she that I loved in my strength, that spoke to my soul?
Where are those passionate eyes that appeal'd to my eyes in passion?
Where is the mouth that kiss'd me, the breast I laid to my own?

--The Desolate City, Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
She was in the elevator when I got off work, and we ( Read more... )

"All love is unrequited."
--Susan Ivonova

The kindness of someone you love with an unrequited passion may be the cruelest of all kindnesses.