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I never really got over the fun of making letters.

Anne Carson

What makes life life and not a simple story? Jagged bits moving never still, all along the wall.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
A page with a poem on it is less attractive than a page with a poem on it and some tea stains.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
It is easier to tell a story of how people wound one another than of what binds them together.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
All human desire is poised on an axis of paradox, absence and presence its poles, love and hate its motive energies.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
You can never know enough, never work enough, never use the infinitives and participles oddly enough, never impede the movement harshly enough, never leave the mind quickly enough.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
Consider incompleteness as a verb.
ANNE CARSON

Incomplete One Liner Verb
Do you remember when they taught cursive in schools? I think they don’t anymore. But I still enjoy it – just the physical act and all the – the whole business of making a thing out of language.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
I’ve come to understand that the best one can hope for as a human is to have a relationship with that emptiness where God would be if God were available, but God isn’t.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
When an ecstatic is asked the question, What is it that love dares the self to do? she will answer: Love dares the self to leave itself behind, to enter into poverty.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
Could you visit me in dreams? That would cheer me. Sweet to see friends in the night, however short the time.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
It takes practice to shave the skin off the light.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
You doubt God? Well more to the point I credit God with the good sense to doubt me. What is mortality after all but divine doubt flashing over us? For an instant God suspends assent and poof! we disappear.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
Aristotle says that metaphor causes the mind to experience itself in the act of making a mistake.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
Meanwhile music pounded / across hearts opening every valve to the desperate drama of being / a self in a song.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
We humans seem disastrously in love with this thing (whatever it is) that glitters on the earth– we call it life.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur

I never really got over the fun of making letters.

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I never really got over the fun of making letters.

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