1. Change, move, dead clock, that this fresh day
    May break with dazzling light to these sick eyes.
    Burn, glare, old sun, so long unseen,
    That time may find its sound again, and cleanse
    Whatever it is that a wound remembers
    After the healing ends.

    — Weldon Kees, “Small Prayer” (via proustitute)

  2. love is the voice under all silences,
    the hope which has no opposite in fear…

    — e. e. cummings, from “[being to timelessness as it’s to time]” (via litverve)

  3. I came to realize that far more important to me than any plot or conventional sense was the sheer directionality I felt while reading prose, the texture of time as it passed, life’s white machine.

    — Ben Lerner, Leaving the Atocha Station (via booksijustread)

  4. At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
    Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
    But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
    Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
    Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
    There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.

    — 

    T. S. Eliot, from “Burnt Norton” in The Four Quartets (via proustitute)

    This makes me think of the Dark Morris from the Discworld novels. 

  5. And when it’s time, the dove

    calls from its hiding place
    and leaves the morning greener

    and the one who hears the dove more alone.

    — Li-Young Lee, from “Secret Life” (via the-final-sentence)

  6. Now is life very solid or very shifting? I am haunted by the two contradictions. This has gone on for ever; will last for ever; goes down to the bottom of the world—this moment I stand on.

    — Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry dated 4 January 1929 (via proustitute)