Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how. The moment you know how, you begin to die a little. The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark.
Agnes de Mille.
I wanted a perfect ending…. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.
Gilda Radner.
Writing a book is like scrubbing an elephant: there’s no good place to begin or end, and it is hard to keep track of what you have covered.
Anon.
With my new orange bike really big orange bike leaving the camp site going faster and faster along the river on the pavement but there by the river warm but the wind blowing cold blowing in my face my hair behind faster & faster no fear pedalling with power my body’s power the big bike big & bright & orange and me big on the bike & the river big & the river faster & me faster & orange & bright and wild & alone me & the river & the orange bike
Patricia Delorey
And I hear you say,
Let me be wild and tangled and free
Let me run and yell and catch things
And come back dirty and shining, with thistles in my hair.
I am tired of being timid, you said.
I am tired of being quietly, perfectly creative.
I want to leave my closet door open at night
I want to climb out of the window of who I am expected to be
And leap into the reality of wishes, landing in a cascade of
cherry blossoms.
Miriam Rubinow.
If the depth of my feelings
matched the depth of my voice
If I remember the knowledge
of sound pure and full,
If I stay connected to
my breath and stand tall
If I keep my channels open,
will I still be a women?
Adrienne Cugini
Agnes de Mille.
I wanted a perfect ending…. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.
Gilda Radner.
Writing a book is like scrubbing an elephant: there’s no good place to begin or end, and it is hard to keep track of what you have covered.
Anon.
With my new orange bike really big orange bike leaving the camp site going faster and faster along the river on the pavement but there by the river warm but the wind blowing cold blowing in my face my hair behind faster & faster no fear pedalling with power my body’s power the big bike big & bright & orange and me big on the bike & the river big & the river faster & me faster & orange & bright and wild & alone me & the river & the orange bike
Patricia Delorey
And I hear you say,
Let me be wild and tangled and free
Let me run and yell and catch things
And come back dirty and shining, with thistles in my hair.
I am tired of being timid, you said.
I am tired of being quietly, perfectly creative.
I want to leave my closet door open at night
I want to climb out of the window of who I am expected to be
And leap into the reality of wishes, landing in a cascade of
cherry blossoms.
Miriam Rubinow.
If the depth of my feelings
matched the depth of my voice
If I remember the knowledge
of sound pure and full,
If I stay connected to
my breath and stand tall
If I keep my channels open,
will I still be a women?
Adrienne Cugini
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