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Quote by Heather Angelika Dooley

“So many things in this life that you would consider trash are my personal diplomas, my favored scars, my most priceless junkyard. So many things that meant nothing to you are the encyclopedias to my whole, are the ticket fares to my soul, are the things that you repoed when I caught you dressed in black... wearing the things you've stolen, filling pockets of me, swollen.”

Quote by Heather Angelika Dooley

Book:Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream
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Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

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Heather Angelika Dooley

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“I can hear the moths crackling and burning on the bulb, I see myself as one of them, flitting around this porch light. I can imagine me bewitched by the wink and sparkle, but I couldn't imagine myself taking up camp here, forever. I am suddenly abundantly aware that this is not even summer yet. This is just a porch with a jerrybuilt swing and creaky planked floors, a frayed recliner, and splays of gray hairs just (now) taking root. I remember that first summer when we strung sprinklers like toy lanterns...”

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Book:Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream
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“പിരിയുമ്പോള് ,എനിക്ക് വലതും തരിക ഓര്മ്മക്കായി എന്ന് പീറ്റര് ജീസ്സസിനോട് ചോദിച്ചു ,ക്രിസ്തുവാകട്ടെ അപ്പമെടുത്ത് പറഞ്ഞു "ഇതെന്റെ ശരീരമാണ്, നീ ഇത് ഭക്ഷിക്കുക "പീറ്റര് അപ്പം ഭക്ഷിച്ചു ,ആ അപ്പം അവന്റെ ശരീരത്തിന്റെ ഭാഗമായി ,ചിന്തയുടെ ഭാഗമായി,ദര്ശനത­ തിന്റെയും് നൃത്തത്തിന്റെയ­ ും ഭാഗമായി,സംഗീതത്തിന്റെയും രതിയുടെയും ഭാഗമായി,കുഞ്ഞുമക്കളുടെ ഭാഗമായി- അര്ത്ഥമിതാണ് -ദര്ശനങ്ങളുടെ സുഗന്തങ്ങള് എപ്പോള് വേണമെങ്കിലും കാലം കവര്ന്നെടുക്കാ­ ം ,എന്നാല് അപ്പം നല്കിയവന്റെ ഓര്മ്മ എല്ലാ കാലങ്ങളിലും നിലനില്ക്കും- ജീവിതമെപ്പോഴാണ് വിശുദ്ധമായ ഒരു തളികയിലെടുത്തു വാഴ്ത്തി വിഭജിച്ചു നമുക്ക് കൊടുക്കാനാവുക.”

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Book:Hridayavayal | ഹൃദയവയല്‍
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“I've lost touch with myself. It seems like she and I have not touched base for ages, I can't remember the last time I talked to her, honest to God. She's always been my best friend—my vicarious better half. It's such a shame, really... I wish I knew what she was up to these days. I really, REALLY do. It's not as though you can close a bond like ours when the room gets too messy; you can't just shut the door. It's common knowledge they'll only open a window ...and sneak out. I don't know where she is now. She could be on a train to the other coast, for all I know. I quit listening to her wishes a long time ago. Shame on me.”

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Book:Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream
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