Truman Streckfus Persons was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, on this day in 1924. He would have been 90 years old today!
"Past certain ages or certain wisdoms it is very difficult to look with wonder; it is best done when one is a child; after that, and if you are lucky, you will find a bridge of childhood and walk across it." —from “Local Color” (1950) by Truman Capote
Happy Birthday, Laura Esquivel, born 30 September 1950
To know how to produce a work of art is to know how to discard the extraneous.
Desires and words go hand in hand … they are moved by the same intention to join together, to communicate, to establish bridges between people, whether they are spoken or written.
The simple truth is that the truth does not exist, it all depends on a persons point of view.
[Words] cling to the very core of our memories and lie there in silence until a new desire reawakens them and recharges them with loving energy…. Like water, words are a wonderful conductor of energy. And the most powerful, transforming energy is the energy of love.
You don’t have to think about love; you either feel it or you don’t.
“Not everyone goes to poetry readings to find love. She did. Growing up, poetry had been the sanctuary, that space in words where longing could be spoken. Nobody in her world understood. Poems came in another language. Nobody could find or hurt you there. She spent many a night sitting in a freezing kitchen before a plate of cold food held together by congealed fat reciting softly to herself sweet words—Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Emily Dickinson, William Wordworth. Poems were the way to leave pain behind—to forget. They were a kind of suicide, a death. Her real self could drown in them. They were water to her thirst, cooling the burning sensation, soothing the red welts on her skin left by lashes from fresh young branches still green. Poetry made childhood bearable.”
— bell hooks, Wounds of Passion: A Writing Life
(Painting by Derrick Woodford. Thank you, Mr. Woodford and antiquehelper.)