Myths 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 CARSONRelated Topics
Anand Thakur
Myths 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 CARSONMaybe I could have been good as a drawer if I had done it as much as I did writing, but it’s more scary to draw. It’s more revealing. You can’t disguise yourself in drawing.
ANNE CARSONTo live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.
ANNE CARSONA page with a poem on it is less attractive than a page with a poem on it and some tea stains.
ANNE CARSONMeanwhile music pounded / across hearts opening every valve to the desperate drama of being / a self in a song.
ANNE CARSONA man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.
ANNE CARSONYou remember too much,” my mother said to me recently. “Why hold onto all that?” And I said, “where can I put it down?
ANNE CARSONThe man has a theory. The woman has hipbones. Here comes Death.
ANNE CARSONComfortable means gradually more and more flattened down, more and more blunt – less and less sharp and biting into you.
ANNE CARSONHe was trying to fit this Herakles onto the one he knew.
ANNE CARSONI 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 CARSONLove is a good place to situate our distrust of fake women.
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 CARSONI never had much education in English poetry as such.
ANNE CARSONYou 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 CARSONHe came after Homer and before Gertrude Stein, a difficult interval for a poet.
ANNE CARSON