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Quote by Linda Kage

“I wanted her and I couldn’t have her, so I fed the temptation, I flooded the craving, I would’ve fucking nursed the obsession from my own tits if I could’ve. I made sure I got little doses of her here and there. Except something incredibly enlightening happens when you spend enough time in one woman’s company. You start noticing shit about her, little useless crap that actually begins to mean everything, like how she brushes the hair out her face—even if there isn’t any in her eyes—whenever she’s unsettled, or how she chews on the end of a pen during class whenever she’s listening to something that captures her attention. You learn all her different laughs and know what each one means. You learn what pisses her off the most, or what makes her the happiest. You discover how smart and witty and sarcastic she is, and that her mind is almost as dirty as yours. You see how passionate she becomes when she defends those she loves, and you start to fall. Hard. So, this is my Pathetic Loser’s confession: I am Oren Tenning, and I have fallen. Hard.”

Quote by Linda Kage

Book:A Perfect Ten
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A Perfect Ten

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Linda Kage

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“Sometimes the words come like a tsunami; tidal and windswept they blind you to your weaknesses and it is difficult to keep up with the process. The poet often questions where this 'voice' comes from. Who lifted the visor that covered this once locked Pandora's Box that gave rise to this flight of manic panic? When it feels as if there is too much going on and it is hard to put a stop to it; go with it; go with the incessant flow and ebb although it is not always posed gracefully. There will be enough time afterwards to vet everything, get through your nonsensical thoughts, every void and every streak of dissonance left behind with a fine tooth comb. Poets must always strive to dismantle frantically omens and discover fitting miracles to create an opus of thoughts and feelings. It is easy for a poet to become imperious. This will always show up in the writing. It is unavoidable. Truths must marry godheads on the page. No poet is inexhaustible. When fatigue comes as it must, it must be diagnosed. We must always strive towards the glorified.”

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Book:Feeding The Beasts
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“O văd şi acum. Storurile erau lăsate, şi în cameră era o penumbră misterioasă, o răcoare de o cu totul altă natură decât răcoarea celorlalte camere în care pătrunsesem până atunci. Nu ştiu de ce, mi se părea că totul pluteşte acolo într-o lumină verde; poate unde perdelele erau verzi. Căci, altminteri, camera era plină de fel de fel de mobile, şi lăzi, şi coşuri cu hârtii şi jurnale vechi. Dar mie mi se părea că e verde. Şi atunci, în clipa aceea, am înţeles ce este Sambo. Am înţeles că există aici, pe pământ, lângă noi, la îndemâna noastră şi totuşi invizibil celorlalţi, inaccesibil celor neiniţiaţi — există un spaţiu privilegiat, un loc paradisiac, pe care, dacă ai avut norocul să-l cunoşti, nu-l mai poţi uita, apoi, toată viaţa. Căci în Sambo simţeam că nu mai trăiesc aşa cum trăisem până atunci; trăiam altfel, într-o continuă, inexprimabilă fericire. Nu ştiu de unde izvora beatitudinea asta fără nume. Mai târziu, amintindu-mi de Sambo, am fost sigur că acolo mă aştepta Dumnezeu, şi mă lua în braţe îndată ce-i călcam pragul. N-am mai simţit, apoi, nicăieri şi niciodată, o asemenea fericire, în nici o biserică, în nici un muzeu; nicăieri şi niciodată.”

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Book:Noaptea de Sânziene
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