O, vanishing days! Give me your hands.

You cannot lose me, I will leave you a sign:

This page and flame behind.

- Hannah Arendt

We stretch our limbs, reaching out

To those near, and those far.

- Hannah Arendt

Night must always say the same thing,

Always sing the same note,

Showing in new ways

We only are what we already were.

- Hannah Arendt

Life, for Arendt, was meant for living, for co-existing in the only world we have, obedient to the earth’s lone law: plurality.

- Daegan Miller

The main thing was to have no illusions and to accept no thoughts—no theoretical systems—that would blind you to reality.

- Hannah Arendt

Poetic language

is a place, not a refuge

- Hannah Arendt

While thinking I am not where I actually am, I am surrounded not by sense-objects but by images that are invisible to everybody else. It is as though I had withdrawn into some never-never land, the land of invisibles, of which I would know nothing had I not this faculty of remembering and imagining.

- Hannah Arendt

Of all things of thought, poetry is closest to thought

- Hannah Arendt

A foreign thing related to me

Hannah Arendt

I stand in no country,

I am neither here nor there

I am not certain of anything.

Then it seems to me I should scorn the world,

Let time slip quietly away,

As long as no more signs should appear.

I look at my hand,

It’s uncannily near to me.

And yet a foreign thing.

Is it more myself than I am?

Does it have higher meaning?

Nothing and nobody exists in this world whose very being does not presuppose a spectator. In other words, nothing that is, insofar as it appears, exists in the singular; everything that is is meant to be perceived by somebody.

- Hannah Arendt

We never come to thoughts. Thoughts come to us.

- Martin Heidegger

The thoughts come to me,

I’m no longer a stranger to them.

I grow into their dwelling

like a plowed field.

- Hannah Arendt

Blessed is he who has no home; he still sees it in his dreams.

- Hannah Arendt

Suddenly there’s a thousand echoes

- Lois Roma-Deeley

until there is nothing but this silence

whistling past my ears

- lois roma-deeley