Love is a shadow./How you lie and cry after it./Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse./All night I shall gallop thus, impetuously,/Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf,/Echoing, echoing.
Sylvia PlathAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: October 27, 1932
- Died: February 11, 1963
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From whence shall we expect the approach of danger? Shall some trans-Atlantic military giant step the earth and crush us at a blow? Never. All the armies of Europe and Asia...could not by force take a drink from the Ohio River or make a track on the Blue Ridge in the trial of a thousand years. No, if destruction be our lot we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of free men we will live forever or die by suicide.
Abraham Lincoln
I would like to believe in the myth that we grow wiser with age. In a sense my disbelief is wisdom. Those of a middle generation, if charitable or sentimental, subscribe to the wisdom myth, while the callous see us as dispensable objects, like broken furniture or dead flowers. For the young we scarcely exist unless we are unavoidable members of the same family, farting, slobbering, perpetually mislaying teeth and bifocals.
Patrick White