I Know You. I Have Felt You Like A Serpent Crawling In My Body.

Lou Andreas-Salomé, from Looking Back: Memoirs; translated by Breon Mitchell

Text ID: Human life—indeed all life—is poetry. It is we who live it, unconsciously, day by day, like scenes in a play, yet in its inviolable wholeness it lives us, it composes us. There is something far different from the old cliche "Turn your life into a work of art"; we are works of art-but we are not the artist.

’Crenaia, The Nymph of the Dargle’ by Frederic Leighton, 1880

C.G. Jung, from The Red Book: Liber Novus

Text ID: He whose desire turns away from outer things, reaches the place of the soul. If he does not find the soul, the horror of emptiness will overcome him, and fear will drive him with a whip lashing time and again in a desperate endeavor and a blind desire for the hollow things of the world. He becomes a fool through his endless desire, and forgets the way of his soul, never to find her again. He will run after all things, and will seize hold of them, but he will not find his soul, since he would find her only in himself.

He literally laid down right in front of me, I am so blessed.

Adam Zagajewski, “A Flame,” trans. Renata Gorczynski and Clare Cavanaugh

Joyce Carol Oates, "The Mercy"

Jung

[She] looked as if she had been carved out of a single pearl.

Angela Carter, "The Courtship of Mr. Lyon" from The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories.

Natalie Díaz, from "American Arithmetic", Postcolonial Love Poem

“LAPIN – UNE OREILLE LEVÉE” ÉDOUARD-MARCEL SANDOZ // circa 1919 [patinated bronze | 6 x 7 x 4.4 cm.]