persephone

“Something in my soul was rising, rising, ceaselessly, painfully, and refused to be still.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from Underground

“Crying leads you through concentric rings of sadness. You close your eyes and travel outwards through a vortex that draws you towards the saddest thing of all. And the saddest thing of all isn’t anything but sadness. It’s too big to see or name. Approaching it’s like seeing God. It makes you crazy. Because as you fall you start to feel yourself approaching someplace from which it will not be possible to retrace your steps back out — it’s much too large and ancient. There are too many parts of other people it in for one person to absorb. Grief is information.”
― Chris Kraus, Aliens & Anorexia

“The grass below the willow
Of my daughter’s wash is curled
With earthworms, and the world
Is measured into row on row
Of unspiced houses, painted to seem real.
The drugged Long Island summer sun drains
Pattern from those empty sleeves, beyond my grandson
Squealing in his pen. I have survived my life.
The yellow daylight lines the oak leaf
And the wire vines melt with the unchanged changes
Of the baby. My children have their husbands’ hands.
My husband’s framed, propped bald as a baby on their pianos,
My tremendous man. I close my eyes. And all the clothes
I have thrown out come back to me, the hollows
Of my daughters’ slips…they drift; I see the sheer
Summer cottons drift, equivalent to air.”
― Louise Glück, Poems, 1962-2012

“And he would go back to his corner, sit down, hide his face in his hands and again sink into dreams and reminiscences... and again he was haunted by hopes.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky