Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Haie! Haie! These were the swift to harry; These the keen-scented; These were the souls of blood. Slow on the leash, pallid the leash-men!
As for literature It gives no man a sinecure. And no one knows, at sight, a masterpiece. And give up verse, my boy, There's nothing in it.
Gloom and solemnity are entirely out of place in even the most rigorous study of an art originally intended to make glad the heart of man.
A man can make himself put down what comes, even if it seems nauseating nonsense; tomorrow some of it may not seem wholly nonsense at all.
Seville is a tower full of fine archers.... Under the arch of the sky, across the clear plain, she shoots the constant arrow of her river.
Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel for the first violet which March brings us, the fragrant pledge of the new-fledged year.
The main thing for inner contentment is to be in a state of grace. And there is an artistic state of grace, for art is a kind of religion.
Bruce Smith is a tender master of music, and beautiful lines, and complex thoughts, and fascinating wild personal and cultural references.
Some people get lots of pleasure; From books or from music or art; But boys seem to think it's fantastic; To just have a really good fart.
Soup simmering, music of idle gossip, yammering kids, domestic chaos - long adjusted to this rolling scene, you show them your lofty calm.
Even after all this time, the sun never says to the earth, 'You owe me.' Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the whole sky.
Nothing you say can ensure that the other person will get it, or respond the way you want. You may never exceed his threshold of deafness.
People marry with a deep longing that their partner will tend to their wounds, not throw salt in them. Honor your partner's vulnerability.
The same fact that Boccaccio offers in support of religion might be adduced in behalf of a republic: "It exists in spite of its ministers.
O bees, sweet bees!" I said; "that nearest field Is shining white with fragrant immortelles Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells.
We have not wings we cannot soar; but, we have feet to scale and climb, by slow degrees, by more and more, the cloudy summits of our time.
Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!
We waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into potions which, after all, do not immortalize, but only intoxicate.
A house without books is a poor house, even if beautiful rugs are covering its floors and precious wallpapers and pictures cover its walls
For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves.
Who has courage to say no again and again to desires, to despise the objects of ambition, who is a whole in himself, smoothed and rounded.
Avoid inquisitive persons, for they are sure to be gossips, their ears are open to hear, but they will not keep what is entrusted to them.
Sovereign money procures a wife with a large fortune, gets a man credit, creates friends, stands in place of pedigree, and even of beauty.
This is a fault common to all singers, that among their friends they will never sing when they are asked; unasked, they will never desist.
I think there's one thing which distinguishes our art - we don't consider. We don't think. We write a little verse because it comes to us.
Rather than recallin these flowersthe fragrance of the past,I would like to hear this nightingale's voice,to know if his song is as sweet.
For the spear was a desert physician, That cured not a few of ambition, And drave not a few to perdition, With medicine bitter and strong.
Truth only needs to be for once spoken out; and there's such music in her, such strange rhythm, as makes men's memories her joyous slaves.
And but two ways are offered to our will, Toil with rare triumph, ease with safe disgrace, The problem still for us and all of human race.
Poems are always interested in what Ivan Illich called 'shadow work,' not least because that is no small part of their own way of working.
Garde-toi, tant que tu vivras, De juger des gens sur la mine. Beware as long as you live, Of judging others according to appearance alone.
The sun fades like the spreading Of a peacock's tail, as though twilight Might be read as a warning to those desperate For easy solutions.
If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two, Thy soul the fixt foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if the other do.
Press bravely onward! - not in vainYour generous trust in human kind;The good which bloodshed could not gainYour peaceful zeal shall find.
Philosophy will clip an angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine - Unweave a rainbow.
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchang'd To hoarse or mute, though fall'n on evil days, On evil days though fall'n, and evil tongues.
Say, heavenly pow'rs, where shall we find such love? Which of ye will be mortal to redeem Man's mortal crime, and just th' unjust to save.
To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise.
It's like my whole world is coming undone, but when I write, my pencil is a needle and thread, and I'm stitching the scraps back together.
Body and soul, Black America reveals the extreme questions of contemporary life, questions of freedom and identity: How can I be who I am?
Love does not grow on trees or brought in the market, but if one wants to be "LOVED" one must first know how to give (unconditional) LOVE.
God is each truly and exalted thing, therefore the individual himself to the highest degree. But are not nature and the world individuals?
Any talented decadent can make unreality believable. To make reality convincing is another matter, a matter for only the greatest masters.
March on. Do not tarry. To go forward is to move toward perfection. March on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life's path.
Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children.
Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.
The first glance from the eyes of the beloved is like the spirit that moved upon the face of the waters, giving birth to heaven and earth.
Let your bending in the Archer's hand be for gladness, for even as he loves the arrow that flies, so he loves also the bow that is stable.
I have passed the mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the firmament of Complete and unbounded freedom; I am in comfort, I am in peace.
Love grows by not giving to us. And if our passion for poetry lives on and persists, it is because poetry offers us only its bits of lint.