Common place book 3

  1. 1.
    The condition of being good is that it should always be possible for you to be morally destroyed by something you couldn’t prevent. To be a good human being is to have a kind of openness to the world, an ability to trust uncertain things beyond your own control, that can lead you to be shattered in very extreme circumstances for which you were not
    to blame That says something very important about the human condition of the ethical life: that it is based on a trust in the uncertain and on a willingness to be exposed; it’s based on being more like a plant than like a jewel, something rather fragile, but whose very particular beauty is inseparable from its fragility.-[Martha nussbaum]
  2. 2.
    [Charlotte bronte]
    Nevertheless I am as it were dimly aware that there are some cold and rational people who would say on reading it — “she is raving” — My sole revenge is to wish these people — a single day of the torments that I have suffered for eight months — then we should see whether they wouldn’t be raving too. One suffers in silence so long as one has the strength and when that strength fails one speaks without measuring one’s words much.
  3. 3.
    You can see it most easily on lonely nights when you feel closest to yourself and farthest from others. You will wish for those you love to remain distant. And even if you do not wish this in your loneliness it will be the very nature of the thing.
    But those whom you are in love with (truly and poetically and disastrously) will fall with you. Much as the way which two petals break off into the wind together. And you will cling to one another. And you will long for nothing more than to remain on this distant island of yourselves and each other. Peacefully invading the cosmos of one another's darkened lightness. Until you find yourself at home. Among their arms.
  4. 4.
    The profound sadness of loss is to be allowed rather than resisted, then folded into the wholeness of life, which continues to unfold.-Maria popova
  5. 5.
    [Pierre Siméon]
    A poem, Arthur, is when you are in love and have the sky in your mouth. A poem turns words around, upside down, and — suddenly! — the world is new. A poem is when words beat their wings. It is a song sung in a cage. A poem? A poem, well… it’s what poets make. Even if the poets do not know it themselves! -Jean-