Nature grows beautiful new life over old scars.
prose
Saudade
…and torture myself with happy thoughts…
XV reasons
Sometimes I feel like life misprinted me.
Exhaustive
Grief is all emotions wrapped into one.
Understanding death
I read an article stating that cats don’t understand death the way humans do, so they don’t fear it like we do — I think they understand better than
Encouragement
“Don’t waste yourself in rejection, nor bark against the bad, but chant the beauty of
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
Battle-scarred
Life is a repeated shattering and gluing back together of the heart.
They healed my heart
“I have a request to make of those who read Empty Shells. If any friend surmises he has discovered the author he will be courteous enough to keep my secret. I have left out a great many poems that would have betrayed my identity, and put in none that I have cause to fear. Why then publish? I have no right to count on a long life and I am not willing to be ‘edited, revised, and corrected.’ On the other hand, I feel towards my poems as many women do towards their weak children; and treasure them because if they were conceived in grief they healed my heart. After the first smart of a new loss was softened, next to writing my greatest comfort was reading; and I did not then seek great authors. Shakespeare, Milton, and Goethe were naught to me: I sought minor Poets — of whom I dare hope to be one. Could I but be a like comfort to some simple, sorrowing hearts I should feel my life-griefs had not been in vain.”
Hard enough
If guilt or regret is an essential part of your grief, you will never stop grieving.
Poetry
There is a pleasure in the pathless words…
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet can not all conceal.
The words are lovely, dark and deep.
I went to the words because I wished to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of language.
In the words we return to reason and faith.
Come to the words, for here is rest.
Literature does not grow wild in the words.
I put my heart to school in the words.
In the words is perpetual youth.
Whose words these are I think I know.
We are not out of the words yet.
Cicatrixoxo
Most of our scars are internal.
Queen of Self
Work hard, enrobe yourself in velvet hope, and rule your world!
Coldhearted
Hail is angry rain.