Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
If you like my poems let them walk in the evening, a little behind you
all nothing's only our hugest home; the most who die, the more we live
Such phantom blossoms palely shining Over the lifeless boughs of Time.
The light would show (if it could harden) Eternities of kitchen garden
All things but one you can restore; the heart you get returns no more.
While we converse with her, we mark No want of day, nor think it dark.
Life isn't one thing after another, it's the same thing over and over.
I like the machinery of poems, especially when they have human warmth.
As soon as we have found the key of life, it opens the gates of death.
Truth is the root, but human sympathy is the flower of practical life.
The crest and crowning of all good, life's final star, is Brotherhood.
I wake up with a sense of wonder. I don't dread the future. I like it.
The most exciting thing is to read a poem out loud for the first time.
I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
To write a blues song is to regiment riots and pluck gems from graves.
Fundamental accuracy of statement is the ONE sole morality of writing.
Every man who deserves to be famous knows it is not worth the trouble.
I realize that, while often happy and often cheerful, I am always sad.
I asked for very little from life, and even this little was denied me.
My dreams are a stupid refuge, like an umbrella against a thunderbolt.
Oh, could slavery exist long if it did not sit on a commercial throne?
Nor fire, nor rocks, can stop our furious minds, Nor waves, nor winds.
When two agree in their desire, One sparke will set them both on fire.
Nothing is more pleasing to God than an open hand, and a closed mouth.
Only the soldier is a free man, because he can look death in the face.
The bud stands for all things, even for those things that don't flower
Maxims are like lawyers who must need to see but one side of the case.
Who shuts his hand has lost his gold, Who opens it hath it twice told.
He--the country parson--is not witty or learned or eloquent, but holy.
Some make a conscience of spitting in the Church, yet robbe the Altar.
Nothing wears clothes, but Man; nothing doth need But he to wear them.
In the wounds our sufferings plough immortal love sows sovereign seed.
Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks Our ruins of wrecked past purpose.
I am honestly not sure how capable I am of love. And I'm not sure why.
Be fervent in God, and let nothing grieve you, whatever you encounter.
Let tenderness pour from your eyes, the way sun gazes warmly on earth.
Let my lusts be my ruin, then, since all else is a fake and a mockery.
A brainiac notices everything, an ignoramus comments about everything.
Wherever books are burned, human beings are destined to be burned too.
Each violet peeps from its dwelling to gaze at the bright stars above.
Reform Judaism is like mock turtle soup-turtle soup without the turtle
It's easy to feel equal to wanting. It's rare to feel equal to having.
When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.
Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.
What seems to us but dim funeral tapers may be heaven's distant lamps.
The air is full of farewells to the dying. And mournings for the dead.
One half the world must sweat and groan that the other half may dream.
When two cultures collide is the only time when true suffering exists.
Fools, they do not even know how much more is the half than the whole.
No one knows, the heart of a child, how it grows until it is too late.