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Quote by Jane Kenyon

“We Let the Boat Drift I set out for the pond, crossing the ravine where seedling pines start up like sparks between the disused rails of the Boston and Maine. The grass in the field would make a second crop if early autumn rains hadn't washed the goodness out. After the night's hard frost it makes a brittle rustling as I walk. The water is utterly still. Here and there a black twig sticks up. It's five years today, and even now I can't accept what cancer did to him -- not death so much as the annihilation of the whole man, sense by sense, thought by thought, hope by hope. Once we talked about the life to come. I took the Bible from the nightstand and offered John 14: "I go to prepare a place for you.""Fine. Good," he said. "But what about Matthew? 'You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.'" And he wept. My neighbor honks and waves driving by. She counsels troubled students; keeps bees; her goats follow her to the mailbox. Last Sunday afternoon we went canoeing on the pond. Something terrible at school had shaken her. We talked quietly far from shore. The paddles rested across our laps; glittering drops fell randomly from their tips. The light around us seemed alive. A loon-itinerant- let us get quite close before it dove, coming up after a long time, and well away from humankind”

Quote by Jane Kenyon

Work

Otherwise: new and selected poems

This volume showcases the author's poetic prowess, blending contemporary themes with timeless expressions of the human experience. more

Author

Jane Kenyon
Jane Kenyon

Jane Kenyon was an American poet known for her straightforward and profound language, exploring themes such as love, death, nature, and faith in her works. Her poetry has won the admiration of readers for its simplicity and depth of insight. more

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“Nem érted, mi történik, még soha nem éltél át hasonlót, mégis pontosan tudod, hogy ezt nevezik halálverítéknek. Jéghideg van önnön forróságod felszínén. Miközben látod, hogy körülötted semmi nem változott meg, s így azért azt is fölfogod, hogy a saját észleléseid és a mások észlelései között nagyobb a különbség, mint amennyi megszokott és elvárható. Olyan szenzációban van részem, ami engem érint, a többieket nem. Már kora reggel igen távol voltam tőlük, s ezek szerint most még távolabb. Nem veri ki őket olyan forróság, aminek jéghideg páncél a felszíne. Igazán nem gondoltam volna, hogy ilyen közel állnék vadidegen emberekhez, most azonban a halálfélelemtől kikerekedett szemekkel fogtam fel, hogy egymáshoz kölcsönösen igazodva, minden pillanatban másokon mérjük be a magunk helyzetét, és magunkon ellenőrizzük a másikét.”

“A napfénytől felforrósodott néma lakásban, történjen bármi, biztonságban éreztem magam. A rejtekhely biztonsága fontosabb a levegőnél. Távol lenni mindentől és mindenkitől. Annál azért már többre tartja magát az ember, hogy a saját egoizmusát, más néven az állatiasságát elfogadja. Nem gondoltam az égvilágon senkire. Nem volt levegő. Arra sem gondoltam, hogy valakire gondolnom kéne, vagy lenne lény a földön, akire nem gondolok. Halála óráján tényleg egyedül marad az ember, ezt azonban a nyereség oldalán kell elkönyvelni.”

“I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)”

“Tell me something. Do you believe in God?' Snow darted an apprehensive glance in my direction. 'What? Who still believes nowadays?' 'It isn't that simple. I don't mean the traditional God of Earth religion. I'm no expert in the history of religions, and perhaps this is nothing new--do you happen to know if there was ever a belief in an...imperfect God?' 'What do you mean by imperfect?' Snow frowned. 'In a way all the gods of the old religions were imperfect, considered that their attributes were amplified human ones. The God of the Old Testament, for instance, required humble submission and sacrifices, and and was jealous of other gods. The Greek gods had fits of sulks and family quarrels, and they were just as imperfect as mortals...' 'No,' I interrupted. 'I'm not thinking of a god whose imperfection arises out of the candor of his human creators, but one whose imperfection represents his essential characteristic: a god limited in his omniscience and power, fallible, incapable of foreseeing the consequences of his acts, and creating things that lead to horror. He is a...sick god, whose ambitions exceed his powers and who does not realize it at first. A god who has created clocks, but not the time they measure. He has created systems or mechanisms that serves specific ends but have now overstepped and betrayed them. And he has created eternity, which was to have measured his power, and which measures his unending defeat.' Snow hesitated, but his attitude no longer showed any of the wary reserve of recent weeks: 'There was Manicheanism...' 'Nothing at all to do with the principles of Good and Evil,' I broke in immediately. 'This god has no existence outside of matter. He would like to free himself from matter, but he cannot...' Snow pondered for a while: 'I don't know of any religion that answers your description. That kind of religion has never been...necessary. If i understand you, and I'm afraid I do, what you have in mind is an evolving god, who develops in the course of time, grows, and keeps increasing in power while remaining aware of his powerlessness. For your god, the divine condition is a situation without a goal. And understanding that, he despairs. But isn't this despairing god of yours mankind, Kelvin? Is it man you are talking about, and that is a fallacy, not just philosophically but also mystically speaking.' I kept on: 'No, it's nothing to do with man. man may correspond to my provisional definition from some point of view, but that is because the definition has a lot of gaps. Man does not create gods, in spite of appearances. The times, the age, impose them on him. Man can serve is age or rebel against it, but the target of his cooperation or rebellion comes to him from outside. If there was only a since human being in existence, he would apparently be able to attempt the experiment of creating his own goals in complete freedom--apparently, because a man not brought up among other human beings cannot become a man. And the being--the being I have in mind--cannot exist in the plural, you see? ...Perhaps he has already been born somewhere, in some corner of the galaxy, and soon he will have some childish enthusiasm that will set him putting out one star and lighting another. We will notice him after a while...' 'We already have,' Snow said sarcastically. 'Novas and supernovas. According to you they are candles on his altar.' 'If you're going to take what I say literally...' ...Snow asked abruptly: 'What gave you this idea of an imperfect god?' 'I don't know. It seems quite feasible to me. That is the only god I could imagine believing in, a god whose passion is not a redemption, who saves nothing, fulfills no purpose--a god who simply is.”