Rene Char Quotes

Lucidity is the wound closest to the sun.

Cheat at this game.

How can we live without the unknown before us?

We’re not really going to have a serious conversation, are we?” I grinned maniacally. “Okay, you know what, we’re going to play Truth or Dare. If you don’t want to do a dare or answer a question, that’s fine, but you have to take a shot to make up for it. Got it?” I was relieved. I couldn’t talk about Adam anymore, and I sure as hell didn’t want to dwell on the confusing morass of emotions swirling inside of me, further complicated by the fact that Seth would be in Southern California for at least one more year. “Got it,” I said. “I’ll go first. I pick dare.” “I dare you to do a striptease on top of this bar,” I said, waggling my eyebrows. He reached for the bottle of tequila, poured, and tossed it back. “Your turn.” He smiled, pleased with himself. “You’re no fun. Truth.” “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, staring at my lips. “Yes,” I said. He leaned in and then, suddenly, we were kissing. I pulled away first. “Okay, now me. Truth. Fire away.” “Why do you still like me?” “That’s an easy one, Char. Because you’re compassionate, intelligent, funny; you have insane sex appeal; and you’re beautiful. Your turn.” “Truth,” I slurred. “Do you want me to kiss you?” “Yes,” I whispered, growing increasingly bold from the alcohol. And then we were kissing again. I pulled away and touched my fingers to his lips. “Your turn.” “Dare.” He winked. “I dare you to kiss me,” I said. He took a shot. I gasped. He was such a tease. 

Seven Versions" 1. The Kiss Massive languor, languor hammered; Sentient languor, languor dissected; Languor deserted, reignite your sidereal fires; Holier languor, arise from love. The wood’s owl has come home. 2. Beyond Sunlight I can’t shakle one of your ankles as if you were a falcon, but nothing can prevent me from following, no matter how far, even beyond sunlight where Jesus becomes visible: I’ll follow, I will wait, I will never give up until I understand why you are going away from me. 3. A Man Wound His Watch In the darkness the man wound his watch before secreting it under his pillow. Then he went to sleep. Outside, the wind was blowing. You who comprehend the repercussions of the faintest gesture—you will understand. A man, his watch, the wind. What else is there? 4. For Which There Is No Name Let me have what the tree has and what it can never lose, let me have it and lose it again, blurred lines the wind draws with the darkness it gets from summer nights, formless indescribable darkness. Either give me back my gladness, or the courage to think about how it was lost to me. Give me back, not what I see, but my sight. Let me meet you again owning nothing but what is in the past. Let me inherit the very thing I am forbidden. And let me continue to seek, though I know it is futile, the only heaven that I could endure: unhurting you. 5. The Composer People said he was overly fond of the good life and ate like a pig. Yet the servant who brought him his chocolate in bed would sometimes find him weeping quietly, both plump pink hands raised slightly and conducting, evidently, in small brief genuflective feints. He experienced the reality of death as music. 6. Detoxification And I refuse to repent of my drug use. It gave me my finest and happiest hours. And I have been wondering: will I use drugs again? I will if my work wants me to. And if drugs want me to. 7. And Suddenlty It’s Night You stand there alone, like everyone else, the center of the world’s attention, a ray of sunlight passing through you. And suddenly it’s night. Franz Wright, iO: A Journal of New American Poetry, Vol I Issue I . (May 15th, 2011) The individual sections of “Seven Versions” ia based, loosely—some very loosely—on poems by Rene Char, Rumi, Yannis Ritsos, Natan Zach, Günther Eich, Jean Cocteau, and Salvatore Quasimodo.

Inexorable etrangete! D'une vie mal defendue, rouler jusqu'aux des vifs du bonheur. How inexorably strange! In this shaky life, to throw even the quick dice of happiness. -Rene Char

René Char, poète français du XXe siècle et membre de la Résistance française, parle de l’Amour en termes de résistance contre l’absence non pas sous sa forme laborieuse, mais sous la forme la plus simple qui soit. Pour Char, la présence de la personne aimée n'est plus une condition préalable à l'épanouissement de son amour, il ne peut en aucun cas en être une cause. Le bien-aimé est là, dans l'espace qu'il remplit, dans l'espace qu'il décore; cependant et avec qui il veut. La personne aimée tient le temps aussi aussi fermement que les clés d'absence. Mais l'amour de Char, la nature la plus vraie de l'amour, "résiste" si facilement.

René Char dans "Eloge d'une soupçonnée" écris le suivant: "Dans les rues de la ville il y a mon amour. Peu importe où il va dans le temps divisé. Il n'est plus mon amour, chacun peut lui parler. Il ne se souvient plus; qui au juste l'aima? Il cherche son pareil dans le voeu des regards. L'espace qu'il parcourt est ma fidélité." René Char, poète français du XXe siècle et membre de la Résistance française, parle de l’Amour en termes de résistance contre l’absence, non pas sous sa forme laborieuse, mais sous la forme la plus simple qu’une résistance aie jamais prise. Pour Char, la présence du bien-aimé n'est plus une condition préalable à l'épanouissement de l’amour et en aucun cas la cause d’un probable fanement. Le bien-aimé est là, dans l'espace qu'il remplit, dans l'espace qu'il décore; à sa guise et avec qui il veut. Le bien-aimé tient le temps aussi ainsi que les clés de l’absence. Mais l'amour de Char, l’amour avec un A majuscule, “résiste" si facilement.

Un homme sans défauts est une montagne sans crevasses. Il ne m’intéresse pas.