Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
The pious and just honoring of ourselves may be thought the fountainhead from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth.
Courtesy which oft is found in lowly sheds, with smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls and courts of princes, where it first was named.
Angels listen when she speaks; She's my delight, all mankind's wonder; But my jealous heart would break Should we live one day asunder.
Whenever one pulls the trigger in order to rectify history's mistake, one lies. For history makes no mistakes, since it has no purpose.
That impulse I think is a form of love. Poetry is something that comes to you, rather than your having to work out its form beforehand.
The first function of poetry is to tell the truth, to learn how to do that, to find out what you really feel and what you really think.
The good poet sticks to his real loves, those within the realm of possibility. He never tries to hold hands with God or the human race.
In the ancients, one sees the accomplished letter of entire poetry: in the moderns, one has the presentiment of the spirit in becoming.
Love is a sacred mystery. To those who love, it remains forever wordless; But to those who do not love, it may be but a heartless jest.
Advance, and never halt, for advancing is perfection. Advance and do not fear the thorns in the path, for they draw only corrupt blood.
Because the soul is like a flower that folds its petals when dark comes, and breathes not its fragrance into the phantoms of the night.
And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man's ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night.
I am most interested in people. I try to capture their complexity and contradiction and beauty. It does not matter where they are from.
Everybody should take each other as they are, white, black, Indians, Creole. Then there would be no prejudice, nations would get along.
For the stage displays the first vigorous expression, as the natural thing and without conspicuous restraint, of private individuality.
A friend of ours, who is an admirer of Isaac Walton, was struck, just as we were, with the likeness of the old angler's face to a fish.
I hate the word 'ought' - it always implies something dull, cold, and commonplace. The 'ought nots' of life are its pleasantest things.
Hard are life's early steps; and but that youth is buoyant, confident, and strong in hope, men would behold its threshold, and despair.
Poetry is the language of extremity. Poetry is a transfer of potency. You feel something potent and then you transfer it onto the page.
Why dost thou not retire like a guest sated with the banquet of life, and with calm mind embrace, thou fool, a rest that knows no care?
His bark The daring mariner shall urge far o'er The Western wave, a smooth and level plain, Albeit the earth is fashioned like a wheel.
The astrologers would tell that the U.S. is ruled by fire and Canada is ruled by water. Short version: You pep us up, we cool you down.
Writing is very improvisational. It's like trying to fix a broken sewing machine with safety pins and rubber bands. A lot of tinkering.
My favorite author's question of all time - because it's so simple to answer ... 'Is your hair really like that, or do you get it done?
For drinking Life there are two cups: The No Cup is bitter, the Yes Cup is yummy -- Now, which one would you rather have in your tummy?
It's in Macbeth: "The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon." I seldom have occasion to pull it out, but it's ready and waiting!
The mind is an enchanting thing is an enchanted thing, like the glaze on a katydid-wing subdivided by sun till the nettings are legion.
War is pillage versus resistance and if illusions of magnitude could be transmuted into ideals of magnanimity, peace might be realized.
Concurring hands divide flax for damask that when bleached by Irish weather has the silvered chamois-leather water-tightness of a skin.
Accepting what we're given is a practice in being present to everything beyond us that lets us become intimate with the nature of life.
You give me nothing during your life, but you promise to provide for me at your death. If you are not a fool, you know what I wish for!
We must be steady enough in ourselves, to be open and to let the winds of life blow through us, to be our breath, our inspiration . . .
Wasn't it Emerson who said, 'My life is for itself and not for a spectacle'? I have a happy, full, good life because I hold it private.
Too quick despairer, wherefore wilt thou go? Soon will the high Midsummer pomps come on, Soon will the musk carnations break and swell.
I've always liked using humor, but what I had to with 'Chewing Gum' was take out a lot of darkness so it would be a bit more feel-good.
All meditation must begin with arousing deep compassion. Whatever one does must emerge from an attitude of love and benefitting others.
The truth I do not stretch or shove When I state the dog is full of love. I've also proved, by actual test, A wet dog is the lovingest.
Few would dispute with the rose her claim to be the queen of flowers, for where is her equal to be found? Is she not God’s masterpiece?
Verse is not written, it is bled; Out of the poet's abstract head. Words drip the poem on the page; Out of his grief, delight and rage.
To hearts which near each other move From evening close to morning light,The night is good; because, my love,They never say good-night.
If nothing once, you nothing lose, For when you die you are the same; The space between is but an hour, The frail duration of a flower.
Courage is no good: It means not scaring others. Being brave Lets no one off the grave. Death is no different whined at than withstood.
For little children everywhere A joyous season still we make; We bring our precious gifts to them, Even for the dear child Jesus' sake.
This is the sanctification of your studies: when they are devoted to God, and when He is the end, the object, and the life of them all.
The East and the West in the spring of the world shall blend / As a man and a woman that plight / Their troth in the warm spring night.
Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.
Everything affects my poetry, every day something happens that changes me forever. I’m susceptible and plastic, thin-skinned and moody.
Oh, let there be nothing on earth but laundry, Nothing but rosy hands in the rising steam And clear dances done in the sight of heaven.
But work a year and sleep an hour, and sleep a night and sing a day, And take a little wine and love, and when you feel religious—pray.
Humid seal of soft affections, Tend'rest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.