Speak for me, I’m mute.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

— W.H. Auden

I can’t go on; I’ll go on; I can’t go on.

— Samuel Beckett

Character is psychosis.

— Otto Rank

Love again: wanking at ten past three
(Surely he’s taken her home by now?),
The bedroom hot as a bakery,
The drink gone dead, without showing how
To meet tomorrow, and afterwards,
And the usual pain, like dysentery.

Someone else feeling her breasts and cunt,
Someone else drowned in that lash-wide stare,
And me supposed to be ignorant,
Or find it funny, or not to care,
Even … but why put it into words?
Isolate rather this element

That spreads through other lives like a tree
And sways them on in a sort of sense
And say why it never worked for me.
Something to do with violence
A long way back, and wrong rewards,
And arrogant eternity.

— Philip Larkin

We have dealt no great blow to the Devil by renaming him “neurosis”.

— Carl Jung

2 thoughts on “Speak for me, I’m mute.

  1. A demon in my view
    We quoted the same Auden poem within hours of each other. I don’t know what this means, but it can’t be anything good.
    Here’s another one for you — “Alone,” by Edgar Allan Poe:
    From childhood’s hour I have not been
    As others were — I have not seen
    As others saw — I could not bring
    My passions from a common spring —
    From the same source I have not taken
    My sorrow — I could not awaken
    My heart to joy at the same tone —
    And all I loved — I loved alone —
    Then — in my childhood, in the dawn
    Of a most stormy life — was drawn
    From every depth of good and ill
    The mystery which binds me still —
    From the torrent or the fountain —
    From the red cliff of the mountain —
    From the sun that ’round me roll’d
    In its autumn tint of gold —
    From the lightning in the sky
    As it pass’d me flying by —
    From the thunder and the storm —
    And the cloud that took the form
    (When the rest of Heaven was blue)
    Of a demon in my view —

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