There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within it.
// Gustave Flaubert
MIND
MIND: Interrogation
And are you in love? And are you happy? And do you sometimes write a poem? And have you had your hair cut? And have you met anybody of such beauty your eyes dance, as the waves danced?
// Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Quentin Bell
MIND: Volatile
You hold a little fire up to my bare skin, which is already a small pyre, one which burns and burns but never burns down; in fact the flames are ever growing.
// Franz Kafka
MIND: Autograph
She kissed
as if she, alone,
could forge
the signature
of the sun.
Said The Shotgun To The Head // Saul Williams
MIND: Materialize
Self love is also remembering to let others love you.
Come out of hiding.
// Irisa Yardenah
MIND: Fruta
I row my beautiful, temporary body through this water-lily world.
// Mary Oliver
MIND: Fragrant
Nostalgia wears you like a perfume, I smell you everywhere.
// Pavana
MIND: Hazy
The Mediterranean sun has something tragic about it, quite different from the tragedy of fogs. Certain evenings at the base is the seaside mountains, night falls over the flawless curve of a little bay, and there rises from the silent waters a sense of anguished fulfillment. In such spots one can understand that if the Greeks knew despair they always did so through beauty and its stifling quality.
Helen’s Exile // Albert Camus
MIND: Core
At bottom, you see, you are the only thing that counts for me,
for you are everything – beauty, love, poetry … in a word, life.
// Guillaume Apollinaire, from a letter to Madeleine Pagès
MIND: Vigilant
Yes, I was wholly and entirely happy. If you could have uncored me, you would have seen every nerve running fire – intense, but calm.
// Virginia Woolf
