Dans mes rêves, je t’embrasse fort,
si fort,
que mon coeur en est brisé de douleur.

Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

~W.H. Auden, September 1, 1939

My good friend Sameer posted a quote on his Tumblr today. It sounded familiar to me but I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it from. Finally, I realized that it’s from White Oleander, a novel by Janet Fitch. The words come from the main character’s mother Ingrid, a gifted poet who was sentenced to life in prison for committing murder. As charming a character as she is devastating, eloquent Ingrid makes us believe in the redemptive powers of art:

Always learn poems by heart. They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they’ll make your soul impervious to the world’s soft decay.

Breathe in…
Taste of psychedelic molecules;
Intuitive spark?
Or tangled spew?

Morning smile
whispers to
night tear,
‘You’ve made it through’.

Believe it.
Know it.
Do it.
Live it.
Love it.