#nation

I called it a baptism in flaming ink that forced me to shed my shyness about recognizing myself as a poet and to accept the fact that life had never given me any choice in the matter. And then I had to discover exactly what that meant. ↗

— Aberjhani

#contemporary-literature #contemporary-poetry #destiny #famous-poets #initiation

You can be anything, you want to be in this life. ↗

— M.H. Rakib

#life

Prayer is a moment of incarnation - God with us. God involved in the details of my life. ↗

— Paul E. Miller

#prayer #life

I consider a goal as a journey rather than a destination. And each year I set a new goal. ↗

— Curtis Carlson

#destination #each #goal #i #journey

My own family and thousands of other Japanese Americans were interned during World War II. It took our nation over 40 years to apologize. ↗

— Mike Honda

#during #family #ii #japanese #my own

Receiving very little or no feedback from my writing I really don't know if people like it or if they are actually reading any of my work for that matter. Still I will continue to write regardless. I suppose it is similar to people who talk just to hear their own voice. I write simply to see my own thoughts in print. ↗

— Andrew James Pritchard

#frustration #writing #writing-life #life

As I know only too well, anticipation od happiness can sometimes be as gratifying as its consummation. Even during the first months of my separation, every footstep on the pavement would have me racing to the window, and every ring of the doorbell would set my heart beating as fast as a bird's. But as the months went by without even a word, I gradually had to relinquish my hopes of seeing him again. It was not easy to do so, and I am not sure whether I have managed it entirely; however I did stop waking with that thought in my head, imagining what he was doing every hour of the day, and whether his journey would by chance take him past my door. I tried to tell myself instead that I was fortunate in my neglect; that now I needed have no fear that he would arrive and his gimlet eye start to anatomize the cushions, or the curtains, or the state of the fireplace; that now, at last, my life was my own. But truth to tell, I would have given anything to see him walk with his jaunty step up to my front door and rap out a cheerful rhythm with his silver-topped cane. ↗

— Gaynor Arnold

#imagination

Control yourself or be controlled. ↗

— Jennifer Eden Clark

#life #self-determination #society-s-increasing-stupidity #life

There are those laughing their way to hell; and those, crying themselves to heaven. ↗

— Anthony Liccione

#path #way-of-life #life

Domination and critique have always formed an apparatus covertly against a common hostis: the conspirator, who works under cover, who used everything THEY give him and everything THEY attribute to him as a mask. The conspirator is everywhere hated, although THEY will never hate him as much as he enjoys playing his game. No doubt a certain amount of what one usually calls “perversion” accounts for the pleasure, since what he enjoys, among other things, is his opacity. But that isn’t the reason THEY continue to push the conspirator to make himself a critic, to subjectivate himself as critic, nor the reason for the hate THEY so commonly express. The reason is quite simply the danger he represents. The danger, for Empire, is war machines: that one person, that people transform themselves into war machines, ORGANICALLY JOIN THEIR TASTE FOR LIFE AND THEIR TASTE FOR DESTRUCTION. ↗

— Tiqqun

#criticism #destruction #domination #metaphysics #subjectivity