Quotes by Poets - Page 247

Everything in nature is lyrical in its ideal essence, tragic in its fate, and comic in its existence.
George Santayana
Well," she said, "how can I be sure there aren't invisible people in the world? Scientists didn't believe in the mountain gorilla for hundreds of years. And now look. So if scientists can be wrong, then all of us can be wrong. I mean, what if all those invisible people ARE scientists? Think about that one.
Sherman Alexie
I'm Bipolar but as normal as you except for the times my mind thinks like two
Stanley Victor Paskavich
To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know.
Barbara Kingsolver
Music, oh, how faint, how weak,Language fades before thy spell!Why should Feeling ever speak,When thou canst breathe her soul so well?
Thomas Moore
A smile will go the mile, while a frown will take you down.
Anthony Liccione
Conquering any difficulty always gives one a secret joy for it means pushing back a boundary-line and adding to one's liberty.
Henri-Frédéric Amiel
A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The opposite of grief is not laughter or happiness or joy. It is love. It is love. It is love.
Akif Kichloo
Penny wise pound foolish.
Henry Burton
[h]ope, like a desert aloe. Hope, stubborn and bitter to the taste. That hides water. That bears the drought. An ugly plant with the power to heal.
Sofia Samatar
The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.
Edna Saint Vincent Millay
Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road-- Only wakes upon the sea.Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada más; caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. Al andar se hace camino, y al volver la vista atrás se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar. Caminante, no hay camino, sino estelas en la mar.
Antonio Machado
I kept asking myself how a book could be infinite. I could not imagine any other than a cyclic volume, circular. A volume whose last page would be the same as the first and so have the possibility of continuing indefinitely.
Jorge Luis Borges
You solve it as you get older, when you reach the point where you've tasted so much that you can somehow sacrifice certain things more easily, and you have a more tolerant view of things like possessiveness (your own) and a broader acceptance of the pains and the losses.
Ted Hughes
The way of love is not a subtle argument. The door there is devastation. Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom. How do they learn it? They fall, and falling, they're given wings.
Jalaluddin Rumi
I want to live the rest of my life, however long or short, with as much sweetness as I can decently manage, loving all the people I love, and doing as much as I can of the work I still have to do. I am going to write fire until it comes out of my ears, my eyes, my noseholes--everywhere. Until it's every breath I breathe. I'm going to go out like a fucking meteor!
Audre Lorde
Oh I am a cook and a captain bold And the mate of the Nancy brig And a bo'sun tight and a midshipmate And the crew of the captain's gig.
W.S. Gilbert
Shhh, Eena, it’s going to be okay. I promise, you’ll get through this.”tShe didn’t fight him, but grabbed onto his shirt, weeping softly into it as before. He began to hum faintly, a familiar Earth tune. Soon he was singing the words in that deep, consoling voice of his. The song itself was meant to be comforting, and his tender manner made it that much more effectual. tEena recognized the song. She fell asleep to the soothing l
Richelle E. Goodrich
Affliction is enamoured of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.
William Shakespeare
Each day provides its own gifts.
Martial
Let yourself be drawn by the stronger pull of that which you truly love.
Jalaluddin Rumi
Fs Are "Fabulous" Hey, Mom and Dad! I got my grades!And you'll be thrilled to hearthe marks on our report cards are changed around this year. A bunch of kids were telling methis morning on the bus,that they had heard some teachers saythat Fs are "fabulous."And Ds are proudly given outfor work that's "dynamite."They're used to honor kids like me,whose brains are really bright.So C of course is super "cool"-I've got a few of those.I wish they could be Ds and Fs,but that's the way it goes.I'm pleased to see my teacher didn't give an A or B.I've worked too hard for one of those.Gosh, aren't you proud of me?I see you don't believe me.You think that I am lying?At least you will agree that I should get an A for trying!
Ted Scheu
Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.
Shel Silverstein
January grey is here Like a sexton by her grave February bears the bier March with grief doth howl and rave And April weeps - but O ye hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
A man finds he has been wrong at every stage of his career only to deduce the astonishing conclusion that he is at last entirely right.
Robert Louis Stevenson
A bird, unable to fly, is still a bird; but a human unable to love is an inexpensive stone: like a piece of uric acid stone
Munia Khan
Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.
Dorothy Parker
When I am dead, I hope it may be said, 'His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.
Hilaire Belloc
Fear betrays unworthy souls.
Virgil
In the white man's world, language, too -- and the way which the white man thinks of it--has undergone a process of change. The white man takes such things as words and literatures for granted, as indeed he must, for nothing in his world is so commonplace. On every side of him there are words by the millions, an unending succession of pamphlets and papers, letters and books, bills and bulletins, commentaries and conversations. He has diluted and multiplied the Word, and words have begun to close in on him. He is sated and insensitive; his regard for language -- for the Word itself -- as an instrument of creation has diminished nearly to the point of no return. It may be that he will perish by the Word.
N. Scott Momaday
It is not in life but in art that self-fulfillment is to be found.
George Woodcock
Sixty years of virginity tried in vain to dam the waters of instinct as they burst through the granite of good intentions,the rock of irreproachablee conduct.
René Crevel
Silence? What can New York-noisy, roaring, rumbling, tumbling, bustling, story, turbulent New York-have to do with silence? Amid the universal clatter, the incessant din of business, the all swallowing vortex of the great money whirlpool-who has any, even distant, idea of the profound repose......of silence?
Walt Whitman
For love is a celestial harmonyOf likely hearts compos'd of stars' concent,Which join together in sweet sympathy,To work each other's joy and true content,Which they have harbour'd since their first descentOut of their heavenly bowers, where they did seeAnd know each other here belov'd to be.
Edmund Spenser
I fell in loveand then I became love.
Kamand Kojouri
Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?
Charles Bukowski
Learning isn't acquiring knowledge so much as it is trimming information that has already been acquired.
Criss Jami
The river overflows, not the sun. (Déborde le fleuve, - Pas le soleil)
Charles de Leusse
Emma dropped the paper. Her first impression was of a weak feeling in her stomach and in her knees; then of blind guilt, of unreality, of coldness, of fear; then she wished that it were already the next day. Immediately afterwards she realized that that wish was futile because the death of her father was the only thing that had happened in the world, and it would go on happening endlessly.
Jorge Luis Borges
I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets. It has given me blessed release from care and worry and the troubled thinking of our modern day. It has been a return to the primitive and the peaceful. Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and benumbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me - I am happy. ~Hamlin Garland, McClure's, February 1899
Hamlin Garland
Stubbornness is a weapon.People tend to draw it out when a sensitive part of their identity is threatened—be it dignity, honor, pride, desires, etc. If loaded with righteous resolve, stubbornness can assist in overcoming obstacles and achieving great feats; however, more often than not it is loaded with anger, used as a means of destruction for both the possessor and those whom he turns his weapon upon. It is best utilized by wise individuals who are able to dispassionately perceive if their stubbornness will accomplish good, or if it should be put away and replaced by a humble substitute to spare the lives of everyone affected.
Richelle E. Goodrich
I understand you well. Now we have no need to dispute: you are awake, and so you have seen the difference between us, the difference between men akin to their father and those who take their destiny from a woman; the difference between spirit and intellect.
Hermann Hesse
Misogyny, when expressed or explored by men, remains a timeless classic.
Maggie Nelson
Out of the huts of history's shameI riseUp from a past that's rooted in painI riseI'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.Leaving behind nights of terror and fearI riseInto a daybreak that's wondrously clearI riseBringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,I am the dream and the hope of the slave.I riseI riseI rise.
Maya Angelou
O Light Invisible, we praise Thee! Too bright for mortal vision. O Greater Light, we praise Thee for the less; The eastern light our spires touch at morning, The light that slants upon our western doors at evening, The twilight over stagnant pools at batflight, Moon light and star light, owl and moth light, Glow-worm glowlight on a grassblade. O Light Invisible, we worship Thee! We thank Thee for the light that we have kindled, The light of altar and of sanctuary; Small lights of those who meditate at midnight And lights directed through the coloured panes of windows And light reflected from the polished stone, The gilded carven wood, the coloured fresco. Our gaze is submarine, our eyes look upward And see the light that fractures through unquiet water. We see the light but see not whence it comes. O Light Invisible, we glorify Thee!
T.S Eliot
Start by pulling him out of the fire andhoping that he will forget the smell.He was supposed to be an angel but they took himfrom that light and turned him into something hungry,something that forgets what his hands are for when theyaren’t shaking.He will lose so much, and you will watch it all happenbecause you had him first, and you would let the worldbreak its own neck if it means keeping him.Start by wiping the blood off of his chin andpretending to understand.Repeat to yourself“I won’t leave you, I won’t leave you”until you fall asleep and dream of the placewhere nothing is red.When is a monster not a monster?Oh, when you love it.Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.Here are your upturned hands.Give them to him and watch how he prayslike he is learning his first words.Start by pulling him out of another fire,and putting him back together with the piecesyou find on the floor.There is so much to forgive, but you do notknow how to forget.When is a monster not a monster?Oh, when you are the reason it has become so mangled.Here is your humble offering,obliterated and broken in the mouthof this abandoned church.He has come back to stop the worldfrom turning itself inside out, and you love him, you do,so you won’t let him.Tell him that you will never know any better.
Caitlyn Siehl
Birth copulation and death. That's all the facts when you come to brass tacks.
T.S Eliot
You are moving on the chariot of your desire whatever you are thinking is always right.
Santosh Kalwar
I was moved beyond words. The train ride over the mountains from lake Titticaca to Cusco reminded me of Africa where I grew up; and 4 days walking on the Inca Trail, then more in the jungle, just magnificent - time, space, and splendour. Our planet is superb!
Jay Woodman
Why did the sun rise this morningIt's not naturalI don't want to see the lightIt's not time to close the casketOr say Kaddish for my sonI've already buried two fathersWith a mother to comeIsn't that enough Lord who wants usTo exalt and santify HimI don't want to wear the mourner's ribbonOr wake up crying every morningFor God knows how longI don't want to tuck my son into the groundAs if we were putting him to bedFor the last timeClose the prayer book I will not pretendThat God brings peace upon usAnd upon all IsraelI don't want to hear anyoneScolding me from her wheelchairBecause I'm crying too hardI'm not worried about a heart attackNothingnessYou've already broken my heartI will not forgive youSun of emptinessSky of blank cloudsI will not forgive youIndifferent GodUntil you give back my son
Edward Hirsch
Love, the exotic bird, came and went.Heart forgot love.Joy, the majestic willow, wept and died.Mind forgot joy.Hope, the basement lamp, fell and broke.Soul forgot hope.Self, the anxious caterpillar, took flight and dropped.Self forgot self.You, my all, became all my reasons.Reasons left.You left.I never forgot.
Kamand Kojouri
He brooded on how close destruction always was to all creatures, animals as well as humans, and he realized that there is nothing we can predict or know for certain in this world except death.
Hermann Hesse
I tend to think my eye's vision is still 20/20, because they mind their own business.
Anthony Liccione
may came home with a smooth round stoneas small as a world and as large as alone.
E.E. Cummings
Cyrano: The leaves---Roxane: What color---Perfect Venetian red! Look at them fall.Cyrano: Yes---they know how to die. A little wayFrom the branch to the earth, a little fearOf mingling with the common dust---and yetThey go down gracefully---a fall that seemsLike flying!
Edmond Rostand
Those freckles make you seem like a galaxy of stars, just waiting to be explored and loved.
Nikita Gill
I was born not to die but to live and never born.
Santosh Kalwar
The darkness always lies.
Anthony Liccione
If you combine the suffering’s great color palette you will find happiness as well.
Sorin Cerin