“However bad life is, what’s important is to make something interesting out of it. And that has a lot to do with the physical world, with looking at stuff, snow and light and the smell of your screen door and whatever constitutes your phenomenal existence from moment to moment. How consoling—that this stuff goes on and that you can keep thinking about it and making that into something on the page.”
— Anne Carson explains an idea that she and Alice Munro have in common (attachment to the physical world and the details in life), from The Art of Poetry No. 88, Paris Review (via podencos)
Tag: anne carson
You hardly ever see Chandler enter a room, he’s just there, or leave a room, he seeps away, small tide of person, noticed as a retraction.
“1=1” by Anne Carson (2016)
You hardly ever see Chandler enter a room, he’s just there, or leave a room, he seeps away, small tide of person, noticed as a retraction.
“1=1” by Anne Carson (2016)
There is no renunciation in this (cf. meditation), no striving to detach, all these things, all the things you can name, being simply gone. Meaning, gone.
“1=1” by Anne Carson (2016)
There is no renunciation in this (cf. meditation), no striving to detach, all these things, all the things you can name, being simply gone. Meaning, gone.
“1=1” by Anne Carson (2016)
Generous gestures, when she attempts them, seem to swipe through the lives of others like a random bear paw, often making matters worse.
“1=1” by Anne Carson (2016)
Generous gestures, when she attempts them, seem to swipe through the lives of others like a random bear paw, often making matters worse.
“1=1” by Anne Carson (2016)
What is the price of desolation, and who pays. Some questions don’t warrant a question mark.
“1=1” by Anne Carson (2016)
What is the price of desolation, and who pays. Some questions don’t warrant a question mark.
“1=1” by Anne Carson (2016)
I win a whole day to watch clouds pile past the mountain and contemplate the fact that I am an illusion. There is no self, the classical masters are firm on this. No Ahab. No Starbuck. No whale?
Plainwater by Anne Carson