The moon shed light on my hopeless plight as the radio blared so bland. Every disc, a poker chip. Every song just a one night stand. Formula music, girly guile, genuine junk food for juveniles. Up and down the dial mercenary style.

Joni Mitchell, “Taming the Tiger”
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  • 2 days ago
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I remain quiet. I am determined to close myself to the world, to tighten my heart and hold what has not yet been stolen from me. I cannot let myself slip away. I will hold what I am inside, and keep my hands tight around all the things I have seen and heard, and felt. The poems I composed as I washed and scythed and cooked until my hands were raw. The sagas I know by heart. I am sinking all I have left and going underwater. If I speak, it will be in bubbles of air. They will not be able to keep my words for themselves. They will see the whore, the madwoman, the murderess, the female dripping blood into the grass and laughing with her mouth choked with dirt. They will say ‘Agnes’ and see the spider, the witch caught in the webbing of her own fateful weaving. They might see the lamb circled by ravens, bleating for a lost mother. But they will not see me. I will not be there.

Hannah Kent, Burial Rites
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  • 2 weeks ago
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We have a bad habit of building our own house with other people’s bricks.

Katherine Monk, Joni: The Creative Odyssey of Joni Mitchell
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  • 1 month ago
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  • 3 months ago
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