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He came after Homer and before Gertrude Stein, a difficult interval for a poet.

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

Anand Thakur
Sometimes a journey makes itself necessary.
ANNE CARSON

Journey Necessary Time
Life pulls softly inside your bindings. The pod glows – dear stench.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.
ANNE CARSON

Angry Existence Grief Tragedy Yourself
Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.
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
Those nights lying alone are not discontinuous with this cold hectic dawn. It is who I am.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.
ANNE CARSON

Arrival Breathe Delight Hope Live Moments Run
All 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 CARSON

Anand Thakur
Desire doubled is love and love doubled is madness.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur
Here we go mother on the shipless ocean. Pity us, pity the ocean, here we go.
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
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
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

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

Anand Thakur
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.
ANNE CARSON

Anand Thakur

He came after Homer and before Gertrude Stein, a difficult interval for a poet.

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He came after Homer and before Gertrude Stein, a difficult interval for a poet.

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