Quotes from Anne Carson

Water! Out from between two crouching masses of the world the word leapt. ———— It was raining on his face. He forgot for a moment that he was a brokenheart then he remembered. Sick lurch downward to Geryon trapped in his own bad apple. Each morning a shock to return to the cut soul.

Blended Text You have captured: pinned upon my heart: the wall of my heart is your love with one glance: as one with one bead: as an exile of the kings of royalty of your eyes: my heart you have something of mine: a torn thing again the moon: now the rule: (who knows)

I clutch, all language vanished from my mind. We knock each other over in a violent embrace.

A wound gives off its own light surgeons say. If all the lamps in the house were turned out you could dress this wound by what shines from it

Up against another human being one's own procedures take on definition.

When is a pilgrim like a photograph? When the blend of acids and sentiment is just right.

It was Sappho who likened a girl to an apple … and compared a bridegroom to Achilles. (Orationes 9.16)

There is something you should know. And the right way to know it is by a cherrying of your mind.

Like honey is the sleep of the just.

Well, they said, these are the pies we have . It was a proverb.

I am not a person who feels easy talking about blood or desire. I rarely used the word woman myself. But such things are the natural facts of what we are, I suppose we have to follow out these signs in the endless struggle against forgetting. The truth is, I lived out my adolescence mainly in default of my father's favor. But I perceived that I could trouble him less if I had no gender.

To be nothing - is that not, after all, the most satisfactory fact in the whole world?' asks a dog in a novel I read once (Virginia Woolf Flush 87). I wonder what the smell of nothing is. Smell of autopsy.

Emily is in the parlour brushing the carpet," records Charlotte in 1828. Unsociable even at home

The huge night moved overhead scattering drops of itself.

He picked his way carefully toward the sex question. Why is it a question? He understood that people need acts of attention from one another, does it really matter which acts?

Seguir siendo humano es romper un impedimento. Quiérelo si eres capaz. Quiérelo si te atreves.

Beginnings are special because most of them are fake.

The basic rules of male-female relations were imparted atmospherically in our family, no direct speech allowed.

Tragedy is not concerned with human justice. Tragedy is the statement of an expiation, but not he miserable expiation of a codified breach of a local arrangement organized by the knaves for the fools. The tragic figure represents the expiation of the original sin, of the original and eternal sin of...having been born.

Nothing is as it was before, after the screen has gone to black. Darkness lies on the soul. To use Beckett's phrase, "what cowers behind it begins to seep through." With her new shopping cart Hekabe, queen of Troy, will be prowling the aisled for dog biscuits.

Don't want to be free want to be with you.

It happens to me frequently. You disappear? Yes and then come back. Moments of death I call them.

I wonder if there might not be another idea of human order than repression, another notion of human virtue than self-control, another kind of human self than one based on dissociation of inside and outside. Or indeed, another human essence than self.

Why does motion sadden him?