One can’t build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
— Anne Sexton (via theparisreview)
The Angels
They all have tired mouths
and bright seamless souls.
And a longing (as for sin)
sometimes haunts their dreams.
They are almost all alike;
in God’s gardens they keep still,
like many, many intervals
in his might and melody.Only when they spread their wings
are they wakers of a wind:
as if God with his broad sculptor-
hands leafed through the pages
in the dark book of the beginning.-Rainer Maria Rilke
