Tell people there’s an invisible man in the sky who created the universe, and the vast majority will believe you;

Tell them the paint is wet, and they have to touch it to make sure.


— George Carlin (via damn-peasants)
In the novel or the journal you get the journey. In a poem you get the arrival.
— May Sarton, The Paris Review: The Art of Poetry No. 32 (with gratitude to The Chocolate Chip Waffle)

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)


— "Mad Girl’s Love Song" by Sylvia Plath (via monosyllable)