i will cry over another’s death, but i will never shed a tear over my own.

https://pensum.ca/2013/05/3066/

The greatness of man is great in that he knows himself to be wretched. A tree does not know itself to be wretched.

Blaise Pascal

https://pensum.ca/2013/04/3058/

Just a bump on the toboggan ride into the abyss.

https://pensum.ca/2013/04/3057/

“I need to emerge from tiny time-stopping moments; I need to exist inside dawn’s light. I need to give in to the presence of everything humble, boundlessly sincere and extraordinarily terrifying.”

Virginia Woolf, Passionate Apprentice: The Early Journals, 1897-1909

https://pensum.ca/2013/04/3056/

Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heartbreaking stupidity of words.

William Faulkner, Mosquitoes: A Novel

https://pensum.ca/2013/04/3055/

It is all well and good to confess that one is a sinner, but it would be even better to think of the harm that one does to another through one’s sin.

Pierre Hadot, The Present Alone is Our Happiness, pg. 27

https://pensum.ca/2013/03/3052/

Sense that sees itself is spirit.

Novalis

 

https://pensum.ca/2013/03/3049/

The only wisdom we can hope to acquire
Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless.

T.S. Eliot, East Coker

https://pensum.ca/2012/12/2937/

Silence is so accurate.

Mark Rothko

https://pensum.ca/2012/12/2935/

find a way to say nothing

https://pensum.ca/2012/11/2925/

how about more beauty… not prettiness or the happy-happy kind but true beauty, the one that utterly guts you and makes you feel infinitesimally small and infinitely vast at the same time; the one whose wake lingers long after, spreading, carrying you drifting beyond the horizon…

https://pensum.ca/2012/11/2913/

Let there be a past, let there be a future, with nothing that would allow the passage from one to the other . . . 

Maurice Blanchot
The Step Not Beyond, trans. Lycette Nelson (Albany: SUNY Press, 1992), p. 12

https://pensum.ca/2012/11/2911/

so that every blade of grass would be as important as a flower

Arvo Pärt

https://pensum.ca/2012/11/2909/

It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.

Sylvia Plath

https://pensum.ca/2012/10/2898/

An image is a stop the mind makes between uncertainties.

Djuna Barnes

https://pensum.ca/2012/10/2896/

My solitude held in its grasp the grief of others until my death.

A plaque attached to Simone Weil’s gravestone.

https://pensum.ca/2012/10/2854/

Art is longing. You never arrive, but you keep going in the hope that you will.
Anselm Kiefer

https://pensum.ca/2012/10/2840/

To utter the word so as to plunge it back into its own futility.

Stéphane Mallarmé

https://pensum.ca/2012/10/2815/

Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness.

Sun Tzu, ch. 6

https://pensum.ca/2012/09/2787/

This silence, this light where
nothing is heard, nothing seen is that
same silence, that light where once
splendors were heard, splendors were seen once
not needed now in the silence, the light.

 Wm. Bronk

https://pensum.ca/2012/07/2762/