― Virginia Woolf
― James Joyce
A heart is to be spent.
― Stephen Dunn, Sixty
― Hermann Hesse
― W. S. Merwin, Elegy
― Nikos Kazantzakis
You’ve tried the rest.
You’ve waited long enough.
Everything catches up with you.
And you’re too old,
or too young.
Or you don’t have the money
or you don’t have the time.
Maybe you’re shy, and maybe
you’re just afraid.
How often have you heard it,
have you promised
yourself you’d try
something really different
if you had the chance?
Though you can’t help but wonder
if all those people
know what they’re doing, now
you’re saying it with them:
catches up with us,
and it starts to show.
We’ve waited all our lives, or as long
as we can remember, whichever
is long enough.
― Lawrence Raab, The Rest
― Kahlil Gibran
And she forgot the blue above the trees,
And she forgot the dells where waters run,
And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze;
She had no knowledge when the day was done,
And the new morn she saw not: but in peace
Hung over her sweet Basil evermore,
And moisten’d it with tears unto the core.
― John Keats, Isabella; or, the Pot of Basil (LIII)
― Winona Ryder
There was no God in his heart, he knew; his ideas were still in riot; there was ever the pain of memory; the regret for his lost youth — yet the waters of disillusion had left a deposit on his soul, responsibility and a love of life, the faint stirring of old ambitions and unrealized dreams…
And he could not tell why the struggle was worth while, why he had determined to use to the utmost himself and his heritage from the personalities he had passed…
He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky.
“I know myself,” he cried, “but that is all.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise