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And what can I tell you, my brother, my killer, what can I possibly say? I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you, I'm glad you stood in my way

Leonard Cohen

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Leonard Cohen
Age: 82 †
Born: 1934
Born: September 21
Died: 2016
Died: November 7
Film Actor
Lyricist
Musician
Novelist
Pianist
Poet
Record Producer
Screenwriter
Singer
Singer-Songwriter
Street Artist
Writer
Leonard Norman Cohen
Jikan
Tell
Forgive
Way
Possibly
Forgiving
Miss
Glad
Guess
Killer
Missing
Killers
Brother
Stood

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Seven to eleven is a huge chunk of life, full of dulling and forgetting. It is fabled that we slowly lose the gift of speech with animals, that birds no longer visit our windowsills to converse. As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armor themselves against wonder.
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Most of our distractions are designed to invite us away from this recognition, which is a good idea.
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Follow me, the wise man said, but he walked behind.
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I'm writing all the time. And as the songs begin to coalesce, I'm not doing anything else but writing. I wish I were one of those people who wrote songs quickly. But I'm not. So it takes me a great deal of time to find out what the song is.
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a kite is a victim you are sure of. you love it because it pulls.
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We all need that experience of forgetting who you are. Forgetting who you are is such a delicious experience and so frightening that we're in this conflicted predicament.
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Stunned and still not suffering. Swollen with care and anxiety and still not suffering. Useless, old and full of grief, but still not suffering.
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I am not the one who loves - It's love that chooses me. When hatred with his package comes, you forbid delivery...
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I don't think you can write novels on the road. You need a certain stability.
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And I'll dance with you in Vienna, I'll be wearing a river's disguise. The hyacinth wild on my shoulder my mouth on the dew of your thighs. And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moss. And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty, my cheap violin and my cross.
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Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love
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It's you my love, you who are the stranger.
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To keep our hearts open is probably the most urgent responsibility you have as you get older.
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Music is the emotional life of the most people.
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There's a deep tribal aspect to my own nature. So when I'm in contact with those deep resources, of course I feel a very special kind of nourishment.
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I want to be paid for my work, not work for my pay.
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You can say that I've grown bitter but of this you can be sure. The rich have get their channels in the bedrooms of the poor. And there's a mighty Judgement coming but I may be wrong.
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I lit a thin green candle to make you jealous of me, but the room just filled up with mosquitoes.
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May everyone live, And may everyone die. Hello, my love, And my love, Goodbye.
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It's time that we began to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again.
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