Quotes from Richard Siken

Let me tell you a story about war. A man says to another man, Can I tell you something? The other man says, No. A man says to another man, There is something I have to tell you. No, says the other man. No, you don't.

This is the place, you say to yourself, where everything starts to begin

Makes you sad. All your friends are gone. Goodbye Goodbye. No more tears.

but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless and he was running out of lullabies

Don't move. Keep staring straight into my eyes.

It's not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere, it's more like a song on a policeman's radio, how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple to slice into pieces.

His hands keep turning into birds, and his hands keep flying away from him. Eventually the birds must land.

I said it severely and slept through all my appointments. I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I'd rather quit. I'd rather be sad. It's too much work.

We carve up the world and crown it with numbers—lumens, ounces, decibels. All these things and what to do with them. We carve up the world all the time.

People get hurt here. People fall down and stay down and I don't like the way the song goes.

Dear So-and-So, I'm sorry I couldn't come to your party. Dear So-and-So, I'm sorry I came to your party and seduced you and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing.

You were drinking sangria and I was throwing oranges at you, but it didn't matter. I said my arms are very long and your head's on fire. I said kiss me here and here and here and you did.

Pain makes a noise.

Anyone can paint a mask. It's boring. And everyone secretly wants to collaborate with the enemy, to construct a truer version of the self. How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it's some kind of murder? Difficult, to be confronted with the fact of yourself.

There's a part in the movie where you can see right through the acting, where you can tell that I'm about to burst into tears, right before I burst into tears.

You will die in your sleep and leave everything unfinished. This is also speculation. I had obligations: hope, but hope negates the experience. I owe myself nothing. I cut off my head and threw it on the ground.

Leave the lights on. Keep talking. I'll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.

We are all just trying to be holy.

I cut off my head and threw it in the sky.

I woke up in the morning and I didn't want anything, didn't do anything, couldn't do it anyway, just lay there listening to the blood rush through me and it never made any sense, anything. And I can't eat, can't sleep, can't sit still or fix things

This is also part of the story: how the story changes.

The best part of spirituality is reverence. There are other parts. Some people like to hear the sound of their own voice. If you don't believe in the world it would be stupid to paint it. If you don't believe in God, then who are you talking to?

Sweetheart, is that you?

Please keep him safe. Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed to pieces.