Look, I want to love this world
as though it’s the last chance I’m ever going to get
to be alive
and know it.
— from October by Mary Oliver
Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow’s dust flares into breath.
— The Coming of Light by Mark Strand
That’s all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there, like new batteries in the flashlight in the emergency kit in the hall closet.
— Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
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