The man has a theory. The woman has hipbones. Here comes Death.
ANNE CARSONSimply 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.
More Anne Carson Quotes
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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.
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All human desire is poised on an axis of paradox, absence and presence its poles, love and hate its motive energies.
ANNE CARSON -
What makes life life and not a simple story? Jagged bits moving never still, all along the wall.
ANNE CARSON -
Love dares the self to leave itself behind, to enter into poverty.
ANNE CARSON -
The self forms at the edge of desire, and a science of self arises in the effort to leave that self behind.
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Consider incompleteness as a verb.
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Maybe 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 CARSON -
At least half of your mind is always thinking, I’ll be leaving; this won’t last. It’s a good Buddhist attitude. If I were a Buddhist, this would be a great help. As it is, I’m just sad.
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 -
It takes practice to shave the skin off the light.
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?
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Homer must have felt this pressure to come up with an epic poem that would sound totally new to an audience that had loved his previous best-seller.
ANNE CARSON -
To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.
ANNE CARSON -
Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.
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When I desire you a part of me is gone.
ANNE CARSON -
Life pulls softly inside your bindings. The pod glows – dear stench.
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I never had much education in English poetry as such.
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Here we go mother on the shipless ocean. Pity us, pity the ocean, here we go.
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Under the seams runs the pain.
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A man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.
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Poetry – poiesis means a thing made.
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Time isn’t made of anything. It is an abstraction. Just a meaning that we impose upon motion.
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Those nights lying alone are not discontinuous with this cold hectic dawn. It is who I am.
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The 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.
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To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.
ANNE CARSON -
Philosophy – hopeless. Yet it gives me hope.
ANNE CARSON