Sublime
An inspiration engine for ideas
Isolement Où est-ce que je suis ? Qui êtes-vous ? Qu'est-ce que je fais ici ? Emmenez-moi partout, Partout mais pas ici, Faites-moi oublier Tout ce que j'ai été Inventez mon passé, Donnez sens à la nuit. Inventez le soleil Et l'aurore apaisée Non je n'ai pas sommeil, Je vais vous embrasser Êtes-vous mon amie ? Répondez, répondez. Où est-ce que je s
... See moreMichel Houellebecq • Configuration du dernier rivage (LITTERATURE FRA) (French Edition)
Lia Purpura Published • The Ecology of Attention
An old man, I want only peace. The things of this world mean nothing. I know no good way to live and I can’t stop getting lost in my thoughts, my ancient forests. The wind that waves the pines loosens my belt.
Richard Powers • The Overstory: A Novel
Year’s End - Richard Wilbur
Now winter downs the dying of the year,
And night is all a settlement of snow;
From the soft street the rooms of houses show
A gathered light, a shapen atmosphere,
Like frozen-over lakes whose ice is thin
And still allows some stirring down within.
I’ve known the wind by water banks to shake
The late leaves down, which frozen wh
... See moreWe shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
T.S. Eliot • The Essential T.S. Eliot
I have entered sadness as one might enter a room – this after weeks of my heart having for its habitation a place as unyielding and flat as an Essex field in winter! John Bell says: What ails you, wife? He produces gardenias, hair-combs, lenses, bracelets in amber and jet, celestial almanacs, a white hen – reminds me that the whole exchequer of his
... See moreSarah Perry • Enlightenment
by Rumi
Everything you see has its roots
in the unseen world.
The forms may change,
yet the essence remains the same.
Every wondrous sight will vanish,
every sweet word will fade.
But do not be disheartened,
The Source they come from is eternal--
growing, branching out,
giving new life and new joy.
Why do you weep?--
That Source is wit... See more
A Garden Beyond Paradise, by Rumi
my people my people
I thought
the fall would
kill me
but it only
made me real