floralpoeticss

[floralpoeticss]

The world either breaks or hardens the heart.

attributed to Nicolas Chamfort

[floralpoeticss]

I have learned the art of departure.

Osip Mandelstam, from "Tristia"

[floralpoeticss]

The strongest people are the ones who are still kind even after the world tore them a part.

Raven Emotion

[floralpoeticss]

How would you like to be remembered? I want to be forgotten.

- Rei Kawakubo

[floralpoeticss]

Misery gnaws to the bone. Why then do we not despair?

- anna akhmatova, 'everything is plundered...'

[floralpoeticss]

It's love, and love is anguish.

– Henry Miller, from 'A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller 1932-1953'

[floralpoeticss]

I don't know how to free my heart.

– Paul Guest, from "Presumptive Elegy for Ken," The Southern Review (Vol. 56. no. 4, Autumn 2020)

[floralpoeticss]

My body is covered with wounds this world made.

– Rabia of Basra, tr. by Daniel Ladinsky from "Music; It Acts Like Love"

[floralpoeticss]

Everything in me was out of control.

– Christa Wolf, tr. by Jan van Heurck, from "Cassandra: A Novel & Four Essays"

[floralpoeticss]

You do not yet suffer enough to suit me.

– Friedrich Nietzsche, from Thus Spoke Zarathustra

[floralpoeticss]

"...one never forgets the taste of certain tears..."

- Fyodor Dostoevsky

[floralpoeticss]

Do not mock a pain you haven't endured.

[floralpoeticss]

This November there seems to be nothing to say.

– Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait in Letters

[floralpoeticss]

grey November grieves / a love's absence – it's raining, / it's raining last leaves

– Greg Sellers, haiku journal entry, 18 November 2020

[floralpoeticss]

November is such a disagreeable month...as if the year had suddenly found out that she was growing old and could do nothing but weep and fret over it.

[floralpoeticss]

Will you forgive me these November days?

[floralpoeticss]

The day is slipping away...I am sorrowful in November.

Anne Sexton, from "Hurry Up Please It's Time" featured in The Complete Poems