Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
why are we so monumentally slow?
I do think that all of us think in poems.
The hands are churches that worship the world.
I say yes when I mean no and the wrinkle grows.
We start out as little bits of disconnected dust.
I want to be someone making music/with my coming.
Being good felt like a heavy coat, so I took it off.
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Facts interest me less than the trailing smoke of stories.
Maybe when your mother died young, you became instantly old.
A poem is a cup of words open to the sky and wind in a bucket.
Energy is everything. Rubbing happy and sad together creates energy.
Poetry [is] more necessary than ever as a fire to light our tongues.
Getting over what you did to me is not why I get out of bed anymore.
Being alive is a common road. It's what we notice makes us different.
I support all people on earth who have bodies like and unlike my body.
Because sometimes I live in a hurricane of words and not one of them can save me.
The thousands small birds of January in their smooth soaring cloud finding the trees.
I'm not interested in who suffered the most. I'm interested in people getting over it.
There is a place to stand where you can see so many lights you forget you are one of them.
We dropped our troubles into the lap of the storyteller, and they turned into someone else's.
It was terrible when a single conversation with someone determined your whole future relationship.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
I'm writing mostly to thank you for living you eighty years and to tell you I love you and think of you often.
Later our dreams begin catching fire around the edges, they burn like paper, we wake with our hands full of ash.
I think the job of writing and literature is to encourage each one of us to believe that we're living in a story.
I love the solitude of reading. I love the deep dive into someone else's story, the delicious ache of a last page.
The writing of Kathleen McGookey shines more brightly than most fine things we feel pleasure to read. Celebrate it!
Sometimes there’s no one to listen to what you really might like to say at a certain moment. The paper always listens.
Poetry calls us to pause. There is so much we overlook, while the abundance around us continues to shimmer, on its own.
... the real heroes of race and culture would always be the people who stepped out of their own line to make a larger circle.
When allowed to return to the class, your feelings of humility and lonesomeness will render you a much finer student and person.
Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth.
Where we live in the world is never one place. Our hearts, those dogged mirrors, keep flashing us moons before we are ready for them.
My mother used to tell me when I went somewhere, "Please leave your foolishness at home." But how could I do that? It was stuck on me.
our limbs which had already traveled far beyond her world, carrying the click of distances in the smooth, untroubled soles of their shoes.
I am looking for the human who admits his flaws Who shocks the adversary By being kinder not stronger What would that be like? We don't even know
I keep thinking, we teach children to use language to solve their disputes. We teach them not to hit and fight and bite. Then look what adults do!
What did exclusivity ever have to offer but a distorted, unrealistic view of the world? People who stuck only to their own kind were scared people.
I can never see fashion models, lean angular cheeks, strutting hips and blooming hair, without thinking of the skulls at the catacombs in Lima, Peru.
Read, Read, and then Read some more. Always Read. Find the voices that speak most to YOU. This is your pleasure and blessing, as well as responsibility!
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, but because it never forgot what it could do.
you will never catch up. Walk around feeling like a leaf know you could tumble at any second. Then decide what to do with your time. --The Art of Disappearing
Mystery: Everything felt better before you got there than when you actually got there. When you actually got there, you didn't quite have the energy to be there.
only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say it is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.
I think whenever you love something or somebody it means that you have to extend yourself, you have to grow - get a little larger. You can't stay in your little comfortable - spot.
You know, those of us who leave our homes in the morning and expect to find them there when we go back - it's hard for us to understand what the experience of a refugee might be like.
I support all people on earth who have bodies like and unlike my body, skins and moles and old scars, secret and public hair, crooked toes. I support those who have done nothing large.
We all find ourselves involved in projects or activities that confound us-when or why did I say I would do this? What was I thinking? I needed a poem for myself that said-pause longer. Think again.
I Still Have Everything You Gave Me It is dusty on the edges. It is slightly rotten. I guard it without thinking. I focus on it once a year when I shake it out in the wind. I do not ache. I would not trade.