Could you visit me in dreams? That would cheer me. Sweet to see friends in the night, however short the time.
ANNE CARSONRelated Topics
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
You can get used to eating breakfast with a man in a fedora. You can get used to anything, my mother was in the habit of saying.
ANNE CARSON
We humans seem disastrously in love with this thing (whatever it is) that glitters on the earth– we call it life.
ANNE CARSON
I do think I have an ability to record sensual and emotional facts and factoids, to construct a convincing surface of what life feels like, both physical life and emotional life.
ANNE CARSON
I mean, every thought starts over, so every expression of a thought has to do the same. every accuracy has to be invented… I feel I am blundering in concepts too fine for me.
ANNE CARSON
All human desire is poised on an axis of paradox, absence and presence its poles, love and hate its motive energies.
ANNE CARSON
He was trying to fit this Herakles onto the one he knew.
ANNE CARSON
Philosophy – hopeless. Yet it gives me hope.
ANNE CARSON
One of the principle qualities of pain is that it demands an explanation.
ANNE CARSON
I am kind of a curmudgeonly person, so I don’t gravitate to groups or traditions, which is probably just pretentious of me.
ANNE CARSON
To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.
ANNE CARSON
Simply do something else and return to it later to find the problem wasn’t a problem at all. Ruptures almost always lead to a stronger project.
ANNE CARSON
Lava bread makes you passionate.
ANNE CARSON
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
You remember too much,” my mother said to me recently. “Why hold onto all that?” And I said, “where can I put it down?
ANNE CARSON
A page with a poem on it is less attractive than a page with a poem on it and some tea stains.
ANNE CARSON