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What is a ruin but time easing itself of endurance?

Djuna Barnes

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Djuna Barnes
Age: 90 †
Born: 1892
Born: June 12
Died: 1982
Died: June 18
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Cornwall on Hudson
New York
Lydia Steptoe
Ruins
Time
Easing
Depravity
Endurance
Ruin
Inequality

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Our bones ache only while the flesh is on them.
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Only the impossible lasts forever.
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The night is a skin pulled over the head of day that the day may be in torment.
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A man's sorrow runs uphill true it is difficult for him to bear, but it is also difficult for him to keep.
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The truth is how you say it, and to be 'one's self' is the most shocking custom of all.
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For most people, life is nasty, brutish, and short for me, it has simply been nasty and brutish.
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God, children know something they can't tell they like Red Riding Hood and the wolf in bed!
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When autumn shadows throw their patterns across the land, they are not the images of fragile, dying leaves, not the bared arms of lofty elms, not shadows of a fading summer but swinging shapes as of books upon a strap, of round and square boxes held under an arm, of hurrying little people heading towards the nearest school.
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When one wants to become cognizant of the color and the texture of the soil, one does not get a ladder one gets a shovel. When one wants to get into touch with the texture of the universal mind, one does not go to Boston one goes to the Bowery.
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There's something evil in me that loves evil and degradation--purity's black backside! That loves honesty with a horrid love or why have I always gone seeking it at the liar's door?
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Well, isn't Bohemia a place where everyone is as good as everyone else - and must not a waiter be a little less than a waiter to be a good Bohemian?
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One must not look inward too much, while the inside is yet tender. I do not wish to frighten myself until I can stand it.
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Una's face was an unbroken block of calculation, saving where, upon her upper lip, a little down of hair fluttered. Yet it gave one an uncanny feeling. It made one think of a tassel on a hammer.
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I couldn't ever boil potatoes over the heat of your affection. Your love would never bridge a gap it wouldn't even fill up the hole that the mice came through.
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We are adhering to life now with our last muscle - the heart.
Djuna Barnes
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An image is a stop the mind makes between uncertainties.
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Yes, we who are full to the gorge with misery should look well around, doubting everything seen, done, spoken, precisely because we have a word for it, and not its alchemy
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One's life is peculiar to one's own when one has invented it.
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I have a narrative, but you will be put to it to find it.
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No one will be much or little except in someone else's mind, so be careful of the minds you get into.
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