Baby, I love your mind.

I often wish that i had a chandelier hanging from my ceiling, but instead of thousands of sparkling crystals swinging, there would be thousands and thousands of sparkling words. Words that shine brighter than cut glass. Here are a few quotes, specifically by writers, and by writers that have often spoken right deep into me.

"I will not wait to love as best as I can. We thought we were young and that there would be time to love well sometime in the future. This is a terrible way to think. It is no way to live, to wait to love. "
-Dave Eggers

"The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it."
-Sylvia Plath

"The past beats inside me like a second heart."
-John Banville

“Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those, who do not write, compose, or paint can manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic fear, which is inherent in a human condition.”
-Graham Greene

"The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all."
- Ted Hughes

"I like the dark part of the night, after midnight and before four-thirty, when it's hollow, when ceilings are harder and farther away. Then I can breathe, and can think while others are sleeping, in a way can stop time, can have it so – this has always been my dream – so that while everyone else is frozen, I can work busily about them, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, like the elves who make the shoes while children sleep."
- Dave Eggers

And the last words to Joan, the classiest of girls, oh I love her.

“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

“We are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4am of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget.”

-Joan Didion

"A Certain Weariness" by Pablo Neruda

I don't want to be tired alone,
I want you to grow tired along with me.

How can we not be weary of the kind of fine ash which falls on cities in autumn,
something which doesn't quite burn,
which collects in jackets and little by little settles,
discolouring the heart.

 I'm tired of the harsh sea and the mysterious earth.
I'm tired of chickens -- we never know what they think,
and they look at us with dry eyes as though we were unimportant.

 Let us for once--I invite you-- be tired of so many things,
of awful aperitifs, of a good education.

Tired of not going to France,
tired of at least one or two days in the week which have always the same names
like dishes on the table,
and of getting up--what for? -- and going to bed without glory.

Let us finally tell the truth:
we never thought much of these days that are like houseflies or camels.
I have seen some monuments raised to titans,
to donkeys of industry.
They're there, motionless,
with their swords in their hands on their gloomy horses.
I'm tired of statues.
Enough of all that stone.

If we go on filling up the world with still things, how can the living live?
I am tired of remembering.
 I want men, when they're born, to breathe in naked flowers,
fresh soil, pure fire, not just what everyone breathes.
Leave the newborn in peace! Leave room for them to live!
Don't think for them, don't read them the same book;
let them discover the dawn and name their own kisses.

I want you to be weary with me of all that is already well done,
of all that ages us.
Of all that lies in wait to wear out other people.

Let us be weary of what kills
and of what doesn't want to die.