Djuna Barnes
Djuna Barnes
Djuna Barneswas an American writer and artist best known for her novel Nightwood, a cult classic of lesbian fiction and an important work of modernist literature...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth12 June 1892
CityStorm King Mountain, NY
CountryUnited States of America
children riding red
God, children know something they can't tell; they like Red Riding Hood and the wolf in bed!
life-is you-like-it loud
Life is not to be told, call it as loud as you like, it will not tell itself.
littles bohemian wells
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?
humble wind cows
I'm a fart in a gale of wind, a humble violet under a cow pat.
thinking past paris
Of course I think of the past and of Paris, what else is there to remember?
doubt sides docile
The Seal, she lounges like a bride,Much too docile, there's no doubt;Madame Récamier, on side,(if such she has), and bottom out.
shattered surface whole
There is always more surface to a shattered object than a whole.
mind uncertainty
An image is a stop the mind makes between uncertainties.
honesty liars doors
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?
thinking light answers
Matthew,' she said, 'have you ever loved someone and it became yourself?' For a moment he did not answer. Taking up the decanter he held it to the light. 'Robin can go anywhere, do anything,' Nora continued, 'because she forgets, and I nowhere because I remember.' She came toward him. 'Matthew,' she said, 'you think I have always been like this. Once I was remorseless, but this is another love — it goes everywhere; there is no place for it to stop — it rots me away.
heart lasts muscles
We are adhering to life now with our last muscle - the heart.
sweet thinking wicked
She was nervous about the future; it made her indelicate. She was one of the most unimportantly wicked women of her time --because she could not let her time alone, and yet could never be a part of it. She wanted to be the reason for everything and so was the cause of nothing. She had the fluency of tongue and action meted out by divine providence to those who cannot think for themselves. She was the master of the over-sweet phrase, the over-tight embrace.
men shadow wells
A man is whole only when he takes into account his shadow as well as himself - and what is a man's shadow but his upright astonishment?
night skins may
The night is a skin pulled over the head of day that the day may be in torment.