Thursday, April 3, 2008


I'm from a family full of collectors.

My dad collects coins. My sister collects marbles. My mom collects rocks. All her rocks are in a display case in the living room, and we teeter over the case while my mom recollects the wheres and whats of each gem. "You know, my father found that rock while he was still living in Florida..." My sister will pull out her marbles and we'll roll the smooth orbs in our hands oohing over their sparkly bits.

I'm a collector of words. I love their edges. The round bits and the sharp bits. The way they roll in the mouth. I have a word collection that I'll pull out occasionally, in private, my eyes carressing their curve on the page.

But I've decided to pull out my collection today and show you parts of it, my favorite parts, just for you.

"You know about God, I suppose?" "Well," the savage hesitated. He would have liked to say something about solitude, about night, about the mesa lying pale under the moon, about the precipice, the plunge into shadowy darkness, about death. He would have liked to speak; but there were no words. Not even in Shakespeare. ~Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.
~Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzsche

It is in the first exuberance of infancy that we cry for the moon. ~Heretics, G.K. Chesterton

Durch mein Leben zittert ohne Klage, ohne Seufzer ein tief dunkles Weh. Meiner Traume reiner Bluthenschnee ist die Weihe meiner stillsten Tage. ~Sonnet, Franz Kappus

We are never living, but hoping to live. ~Pascal

Sometimes I wake, and lo, I have forgot. ~George MacDonald

The word plum is delicious
pout and push, luxury of
self-love, and savoring murmur
~The Word Plum, Helen Chasin

I grow old....I grow old...I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upoon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
~Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Interesting these collectors. Here are some words I saved in my lovingly caressed satiny journal from Rijksmuseum Amsterdam.

"With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony and by the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things." Wordsworth

"Live your life and forget your age." Norman Vincent Peale

"There are a hundred places where I fear to go, so with his memory they brim. And entering with relief some quiet place where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, "There is no memory of him here!" An so stand stricken, so remembering him.
Collected Sonnets of Edna St. Vlincent Millay