Meanwhile music pounded / across hearts opening every valve to the desperate drama of being / a self in a song.
ANNE CARSONRelated Topics
Anand Thakur
Meanwhile music pounded / across hearts opening every valve to the desperate drama of being / a self in a song.
ANNE CARSONIt is when you are asking about something that you realize you yourself have survived it, and so you must carry it, or fashion it into a thing that carries itself.
ANNE CARSONAll myth is an enriched pattern, a two-faced proposition, allowing its operator to say one thing and mean another, to lead a double life.
ANNE CARSONWhen 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 CARSONI am kind of a curmudgeonly person, so I don’t gravitate to groups or traditions, which is probably just pretentious of me.
ANNE CARSONWhen I began to be published, people got the idea that I should ‘teach writing,’ which I have no idea how to do and don’t really believe in.
ANNE CARSONSometimes I dream a sentence and write it down. It’s usually nonsense, but sometimes it seems a key to another world.
ANNE CARSONExistence will not stop until it gets to beauty.
ANNE CARSONWhat makes life life and not a simple story? Jagged bits moving never still, all along the wall.
ANNE CARSONA man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.
ANNE CARSONTo be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.
ANNE CARSONMyths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.
ANNE CARSONThere is no person without a world.
ANNE CARSONMy religion makes no sense and does not help me therefore I pursue it.
ANNE CARSONIt is for God to fix the time who knows no time.
ANNE CARSONThe words we read and words we write never say exactly what we mean. The people we love are never just as we desire them. The two symbols never perfectly match. Eros is in between.
ANNE CARSON