Saturday, April 14, 2012

The soul is in a manner all that is: the soul is the form of forms.

James Joyce, Ulysses

Friday, April 13, 2012

Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. But can those have been possible seeing that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass?

James Joyce, Ulysses

Wednesday, April 04, 2012

Quiero hacer contigo
Lo que la primavera
Hace con los cerezos

Pablo Neruda, Poem 14 of the Twenty Poems of Love