Long ago, I was wounded. I lived
to revenge myself
against my father, not
for what he was --
for what I was: from the beginning of time,
in childhood, I thought
that pain meant
I was not loved.
It meant I loved.
~ Louise Gluck ~
2009-09-27
First Memory [about love]
Long ago, I was wounded. I lived
to revenge myself
against my father, not
for what he was --
for what I was: from the beginning of time,
in childhood, I thought
that pain meant
I was not loved.
It meant I loved.
~ Louise Gluck ~
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Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
~ William Butler Yeats ~