Quotes by Poets - Page 110

If I must start somewhere, right here and now is the best place imaginable.

Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes they turn Like marigolds toward the sunny side.

I'm going on a diet.  (Crud, I know)I am going to be cranky. I am going to be irritable.I am going to be moody and sad and mean. And, yes, I am going to be hungry. Please don't feed me, even if I try to bite you. Please don't tease me, I may hurt you.Please don't try to encourage me, I may growl and snap at you. Please don't help me, I may blame you for everything aggravating in the known universe.  Please don't be offended by my scowl, I cannot smile.  But most importantly, please keep your distance until this trial is over to prevent any unnecessary casualties. Thank you for your understanding. 

One man gathers what another man spills

When I was at home I was in a better place but travellers must be content.

I think here I will leave you. It has come to seemthere is no perfect ending.Indeed, there are infinite endings.Or perhaps, once one begins,there are only endings.

Lets Rock Cancer's World

The very act of accepting her position at Mademoiselle was an act of open defiance against Dick Norton, his entire family, and the gendered expectations of midcentury America.

Flaws.We all have them. BUT, they are all about perception. What I consider as a flaw may not be what someone else considers as a flaw. To me, a flaws is an imperfection or a fault in MY eyes. I consider my flaws to be things that I do not like about myself and things that I would like to change.

I measure every Grief I meetWith narrow, probing, Eyes;I wonder if It weighs like Mine,Or has an Easier size.

No wonder I want to be Robert Mitchum: big, strong, super-cool, with those Freon eyes of his. That's who I was pretending to be a minute ago - Robert Mitchum in Out of the Past. - Ben

Love is the ultimate no-calorie sweetener.

You want to become a better person?Just give thanks. Give thanks for all of it.

Always our wars have been our confessions of weakness

Your imagination, my dear fellow, is worth more than you imagine.

You ask why I make my home in the mountain forest,and I smile, and am silent,and even my soul remains quiet:it lives in the other worldwhich no one owns.The peach trees blossom,The water flows.

The great point in Christianity is the search for an independent content for spiritual life which, according to the insights of its founder, could be elevated, not by the forces of a world external to the soul of man, but by the revelation of a new world within his soul. Islam fully agrees with this insight and supplements it by the further insight that the illumination of the new world thus revealed is not something foreign to the world of matter but permeates it through and through. Thus the affirmation of spirit sought by Christianity would come not by the renunciation of external forces which are already permeated by the illumination of spirit, but by a proper adjustment of man's relation to these forces in view of the light received from the world within.

Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall.

Name me no names for my disease,With uninforming breath;I tell you I am none of these,But homesick unto death —Homesick for hills that I had known,For brooks that I had crossed,...Before I met this flesh and boneAnd followed and was lost… .And though they break my heart at last,Yet name no name of ills.Say only, "Here is where he passed,Seeking again those hills.

to live asubstance-freelife under thepressures ofthe daily grindis state-sponsoredsuicide

When the heartIs cut or cracked or brokenDo not clutch itLet the wound lie openLet the windFrom the good old sea blow inTo bathe the wound with saltAnd let it sting.Let a stray dog lick itLet a bird lean in the hole and singA simple song like a tiny bellAnd let it ringLet it go.Let it out.Let it all unravel.Let it free and it can beA path on which to travel.

There is nothing to save, now all is lost,but a tiny core of stillness in the heartlike the eye of a violet.

Sex and a cocktail: they both lasted about as long, had the same effect, and amounted to about the same thing.

She walks in beauty.

Love is anterior to life Posterior to death Initial of creation and The exponent of breath.

All things want to float.

After all, a homeless man has reason to cry, everything in the world is pointed against him.

Let me be content with myself to the degree that my capacity to serve others is present, yet discontent with myself to the degree that I may still like to grow in better service for others.

if a man chooses to be promiscuous, he may still turn up his nose at promiscuity. He may still demand a woman be faithful to him, to save him from his own lust. But women have lust, too. Why should they be relegated to the position of custodian of emotions, watcher of the infants, feeder of soul,body and pride of man?

One error, in fact, of eccentricity in poetry is to seek for new human emotions to express; and in this search for novelty in the wrong place it discovers the perverse. The business of the poet is not to find new emotions, but to use the ordinary ones and, in working them up into poetry, to express feelings which are not in actual emotions at all.

Every joy is like a piece of mirror: always reflecting..

Being smart takes patience. Being wise takes pain. Being apathetic takes practice. Being in love takes everything...away.

The happier person is one, that acknowledges and accepts life won't get any better than this.

With all honesty, somewhere between the hello and the dreams I saw you in I fell in love.

From my tears of happiness I have became a mountain of strength surrounded by a sea of Joy.

And the sea trickling out of my eye as if I'd always carried it inside me, like a seashell waiting to be cupped to an ear.

A permanent state of transition is man's most noble condition.

Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.

When within yourself you find the road, the right road will open.

Every time you hurt my heart, you are actually making it stronger.

The flesh covers the bones, and makes the spirit naked.

Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.

A promise made is a debt unpaid.

We are solitary. We can delude ourselves about this and act as if it were not true. That is all.

There is nothing sane, merciful, heroic, devout, redemptive, wise, holy, loving, peaceful, joyous, righteous, gracious, remotely spiritual, or worthy of praise where mass murder is concerned. We have been in this world long enough to know that by now and to understand that nonviolent conflict resolution informed by mutual compassion is the far better option.

If we only arrange our life in accordance with the principle which tells us that we must always trust in the difficult, then what now appears to us as the most alien will become our most intimate and trusted experience. How could we forget those ancient myths that stand at the beginning of all races, the myths about dragons that at the last moment are transformed into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage.

This is me today, but take heed; it is not the same me as yesterday, and it will not be the same me tomorrow.

Chaos is peaceful when you stand quietly & watch - we are eternal observers, reflecting both tiny & vast, singing infinitely within.

To be a woman is to be a fighter! A woman has to be strong and has to fight every moment of her life - against a society that believes in patriarchy, chauvinism and male privilege!

And they are ignorant that the purpose of the sword is to save every man from slavery.

Possibility of enjoying life makes death feel terrible.

It might come a time to not follow your passion, so to speak, although it must be prioritized. It may be the case that your passion will serve as the medic, your peace of mind, alongside a higher calling, with your higher calling being the point man.

If I should have a daughter…“Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

I am an i poet.

A learned society of our day, no doubt with the loftiest of intentions, has proposed the question, “Which people, in history, might have been the happiest?” If I properly understand the question, and if it is not altogether beyond the scope of a human answer, I can think of nothing to say except that at a certain time and under certain circumstances every people must have experienced such a moment or else it never was [a people]. Then again, human nature is no vessel for an absolute, independent, immutable happiness, as defined by the philosopher; rather, she everywhere draws as much happiness towards herself as she can: a supple clay that will conform to the most different situations, needs, and depressions. Even the image of happiness changes with every condition and location (for what is it ever but the sum of “the satisfaction of desire, the fulfillment of purpose, and the gentle overcoming of needs,” all of which are shaped by land, time, and place?). Basically, then, all comparison becomes futile. As soon as the inner meaning of happiness, the inclination has changed; as soon as external opportunities and needs develop and solidify the other meaning—who could compare the different satisfaction of different meanings in different worlds? Who could compare the shepherd and father of the Orient, the ploughman and the artisan, the seaman, runner, conqueror of the world? It is not the laurel wreath that matters, nor the sight of the blessed flock, neither the merchant vessels nor the conquered armies’ standards—but the soul that needed this, strove for it, finally attained it and wanted to attain nothing else. Every nation has its center of happiness within itself, as every ball has its center of gravity!

Cats no less liquid than their shadows Offer no angles to the wind. They slip diminished Neat through loopholes Less than themselves.

I thought how strange it had never occurred to me before that I was only purely happy until I was nine years old.

Rain drops are not the ones who bring the clouds.

Mick had once come across one of Wilson't books and was surprised to see his face on the back cover. Mick was even more surprised when he read the book. It was pretty good, although Mick was kind of tired of hearing about Indians. Still, Mick thought, Aristotle Little Hawk was a good Indian, even if he was just some character in a book. He wished more Indians like Little Hawk hung out in the bar. He knew Wilson claimed he had some Indian blood, said so inside the book. But Mick did not buy that shit. Mick's great-grandmother was a little bit Indian, but that did not make him Indian. Besides, who the hell would want to be Indian when you could just as easily be white?

For pure will, unassuaged of purpose, delivered from the lust of result, is every way perfect.