thx for fav

--
"Don't 'maybe' me, baby. (...) Of all my relations, I like sex the best and Eric the least."

The Mother of the Muses, we are taught,
Is Memory: she has left me.
{Walter Savage Landor, "Memory"}

Far off from these a slow and silent stream,
Lethe the River of Oblivion rolls
Her wat'ry Labyrinth, whereof who drinks,
Forthwith his former state and being forgets,
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.
{Paradise Lost}

The comets
Have such a space to cross,
Such coldness, forgetfulness.
So your gesture flakes off -
Warm and human, then their pink light
Bleeding and peeling
Through the black amnesias of heaven.
{Sylvia Plath, "The Night Dances"}

Gilgamesh listened and his tears flowed. He opened his mouth and spoke to Enkidu: "Who is there in strong-walled Uruk who has wisdom like this? Strange things have been spoken, why does your heart speak strangely? The dream was marvelous but the terror was great; we must treasure the dream whatever the terror; for the dream has shown that misery comes at last to the healthy man, the end of life is sorrow. . ."
{The Epic of Gilgamesh}

I am missing innumerable shades - they were so fine, so difficult to render in colourless words.
{Joseph Teodor Korzeniowski, Lord Jim}

I wished to show that space-time is not necessarily something to which one can ascribe a separate existence, independently of the actual objects of physical reality. Physical objects are not in space, but these objects are spatially extended. In this way the concept of "empty space" loses its meaning.
{Albert Einstein, "Note to the Fifteenth Edition" Relativity: The Special and General Theory}

Let us space.
{Jacques Derrida, Glas}

L'odeur du silence est si vieille.
{O. W. De L. Milosz}

For all the voice in answer he could wake
Was but the mocking echo of his own
From some tree-hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder-broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter-love, original response.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And then in the far-distant water splashed,
But after a time allowed for it to swim,
Instead of proving human when it neared
And someone else additional to him,
As a great buck it powerfully appeared,
Pushing the crumpled water up ahead . . .
{Robert Frost, "The Most of It"}