I write for one and only one purpose, to overcome the invincible ignorance of the traduced heart. ~Kenneth Rexroth
by Alberto Blanco a translation From lake to lake, from forest to forest: “Which is my tribe?” —I wonder— “What is my place?” Perhaps I belong to the tribe of those who have no tribe; or to the tribe of black sheep; or to a tribe whose ancestors come from the future: a tribe about … More My Tribe
I sit at the roadside; The driver changes the wheel. I don’t like where I’m coming from. I don’t like where I’m going. Why do I watch this wheel-change Impatiently? Translated from the German of Bertolt Brecht
Where I live the snow melts late and leaves gloves and earmuffs drying in the sun like so many carcasses. I can’t bring myself to say, “Hello, furry friend,” to a one of them as they grow, grey and twisted wrecks, in the new and foreign warmth.
from THE HANDBOOK by Epictetus (an adaptation of The Enchiridion) Some things we can do, some things we can’t. We control our opinions, desires, aversions, and— to be plain—our own affairs. We do not control our bodies, our things, our reputation (what others think of us). To be plain—those things are none of our affair. … More What’s Not Our Business