“The birds sang their blank melody outside.â€
“There is nothing staid, nothing
settled in this universe.
All is rippling, all is
dancing; all is quickness and triumph.â€
“I would rather
be loved,
I would rather be famous
than follow perfection
through the sand.â€
“I am this,
that
and the other.â€
“Yes;
I will reduce you
to order.â€
“I am rooted, but I flow.â€
“I am not single and entire
as you are.
I have lived a thousand lives
already. Every day I unbury–
I dig up. I find relics
of myself in the sand that
women made thousands of years ago . . .â€
“The weight of the world
is on our shoulders.
This is life.â€
“I do not wish
to be a man who sits
for fifty years
on the same spot thinking
of his navel. I wish to be
harnessed to a cart, a vegetable cart
that rattles over the cobbles.â€
“I have reached
the summit
of my desires.â€
“I desired always
to stretch the night and
fill it fuller and fuller
with dreams.â€
“There is no repetition for me.
Each day
is dangerous.â€
“. . . we are extinct,
lost
in the abyss
of time,
in the
darkness.â€
“We have destroyed
something by our
presence . . .
a world perhaps.â€
“I, I, I.â€
“But if there are no stories,
what end can there be,
or what beginning?â€
“It is strange
how the dead leap out
on us at street corners,
or in dreams.â€
“Life
is a dream
surely.â€
“For this is
not one life;
nor do I always know
if I am man
or woman . . .
so strange is the contact
of one with another.â€
“I said life had been imperfect,
an unfinished
phrase.â€
“Life has destroyed me.â€
“I begin now
to forget;
I begin to doubt the fixity
of tables, the reality of here
and now, to tap my knuckles smartly
upon the edges of apparently
solid objects and say, ‘Are you hard?’â€
“It is strange
that we who are capable
of so much suffering,
should inflict
so much suffering.â€
“It is death.
Death is the enemy.â€
“The
waves
broke
on
the
shore.â€
After I finished reading The Waves by Virginia Woolf, I realized that I needed to meditate more on passages, the construction of prose vs. poetry, and my visceral connection with the text. The above are some of my favorite passages that I thought could work by themselves and with more fragmentation (of lines, spacing, etc.). Also, it’s national poetry month . . .
May Virginia not roll over in her grave and topple my shore with waves of despair.