Jodi Lynn Anderson American children's writer
Source: The Secrets of Peaches
1990s, Moab is My Washpot (autobiography, 1997)
Context: When I had first caught sight of Matthew I saw the beauty in everything. Now I saw only ugliness and decay. All beauty was in the past. Again and again I wrote in poems, in notes, on scraps of paper. My whole life stretched out gloriously behind me. If I wrote that sick phrase once, I wrote it fifty times. And I believed it, too.
Jodi Lynn Anderson American children's writer
Source: The Secrets of Peaches
William Blake (1757–1827) English Romantic poet and artist
Song (How Sweet I Roamed), st. 4
1780s, Poetical Sketches (1783)
“My whole life has conspired to bring me to this place, and I can’t despise my whole life.”
Tony Kushner (1956) American playwright and screenwriter
Source: Angels in America, Part One: Millennium Approaches
“Barren are the years behind me. This is the first day of my span, here is the threshold of my life.”
Steriles transmisimus annos:
haec aevi mihi prima dies, hic limina vitae.
ii, line 12
Silvae, Book IV
“The world stretches out before me, the vast world of the big, the little, and the medium.”
Octavio Paz (1914–1998) Mexican writer laureated with the 1990 Nobel Prize for Literature
The Clerk's Vision (1949)
Context: The world stretches out before me, the vast world of the big, the little, and the medium. Universe of kings and presidents and jailors, of mandarins and pariahs and liberators and liberated, of judges and witnesses and the condemned: stars of the first, second, third and nth magnitudes, planets, comets, bodies errant and eccentric or routine and domesticated by the laws of gravity, the subtle laws of falling, all keeping step, all turning slowly or rapidly around a void. Where they claim the central sun lies, the solar being, the hot beam made out of every human gaze, there is nothing but a hole and less than a hole: the eye of a dead fish, the giddy cavity of the eye that falls into itself and looks at itself without seeing. There is nothing with which to fill the hollow center of the whirlwind. The springs are smashed, the foundations collapsed, the visible or invisible bonds that joined one star to another, one body to another, one man to another, are nothing but a tangle of wires and thorns, a jungle of claws and teeth that twist us and chew us and spit us out and chew us again. No one hangs himself by the rope of a physical law. The equations fall tirelessly into themselves.
And in regard to the present matter, if the present matters: I do not belong to the masters. I don't wash my hands of it, but I am not a judge, nor a witness for the prosecution, nor an executioner. I do not torture, interrogate, or suffer interrogation. I do not loudly plead for leniency, nor wish to save myself or anyone else. And for all that I don't do and for all that they do to us, I neither ask forgiveness nor forgive. Their piety is as abject as their justice. Am I innocent? I'm guilty. Am I guilty? I'm innocent. (I'm innocent when I'm guilty, guilty when I'm innocent. I'm guilty when … but that is another song. Another song? It's all the same song.) Guilty innocent, innocent guilty, the fact is I quit.
Stephen Chbosky book The Perks of Being a Wallflower
Variant: And she kissed me. It was the kind of kiss that I could never tell my friends about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.
Source: The Perks of Being a Wallflower
Rik Mayall (1958–2014) British comedian and actor
Daily Mail, September 2003 https://rikmayallinterviews.wordpress.com/2012/07/17/deadlier-than-the-mayall/