The Transparent Eyeball

Didn’t I stand there once, 
white-knuckled, gripping the just-lit taper, 
swearing I’d never go back? 
And hadn’t you kissed the rain from my mouth? 
And weren’t we gentle and awed and afraid, 
knowing we’d stepped from the room of desire 
into the further room of love? 
And wasn’t it sacred, the sweetness 
we licked from each other’s hands? 
And were we not lovely, then, were we not 
as lovely as thunder, and damp grass, and flame?

~ Cecila Woloch

It was a flash of heat strong enough to buckle my knees, a shot of whiskey to my head. Lovely, fiery abandon. Three simple words, said with the utmost sincerity, quietly, from a mouth that was too smirky, too snarky, and altogether too beautiful. I’d always wanted to know how such ugly words could come from such a lovely thing. But here, here was something not biting or spiteful. Here was a compliment, as unreal as it seemed. Here was something sweet, something I wanted to taste on the very lips that had given it to me. A mindless fire. A burn, a tear, a gash. But no scar. No record to leave behind of the pain that would soon come to pass, too.

It’s because we’re so trapped in our culture, in the being of being human on this planet with the brains we have, and the same two arms and legs everybody has. We’re so trapped that any way we could imagine to escape would be just another part of the trap. Anything we want, we’re trained to want.

~ Chuck Palahniuk

The bronze boy stands kneedeep in centuries,
and never grieves,
remembering a thousand autumns,
with sunlight of a thousand years upon his lips
and his eyes gone blind with leaves.

~ Sylvia Plath

How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! — When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.

~ Jane Austen