Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
When it comes to poetry, I think partly the numbers of people attempting to write poems is probably a result or the reaction to technology.
Shatter the icons of slavery and fear. Replace the leer of the minstrel's burnt-cork face with a proud, serene and classic bronze of Benin.
The three saddest things are the ill wanting to be well, the poor wanting to be rich, and the constant traveler saying 'anywhere but here'.
Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.
I don't say what God is, but a name That somehow answers us when we are driven To feel and think how little we have to do With what we are.
Each thing lives according to its kind; the heart by love, the intellect by truth, the higher nature of man by intimate communion with God.
I know a good many people, I think, who are bigots, and who know they are bigots, and are sorry for it, but they dare not be anything else.
I didn't know how to write a novel, so I sort of let it happen in waves. The only way I could write it was to think like scenes in a movie.
The most important thing for you to do is see that in hoping to be affected by other things as fully as possible, you become more yourself.
I search and can't find myself. I belong in chrysanthemum time, sharp in calla lily elongations. God made my soul into an ornamental thing.
What Hells and Purgatories and Heavens I have inside of me! But who sees me do anything that disagrees with life--me, so calm and peaceful?
Magical realism as a declaration in the text is usually when someone can't speak and then they must be magically reinvigorated in some way.
Being at one is god-like and good, but human, too human, the maniaWhich insists there is only the One, one country, one truth, and one way.
Who eates the Kings Goose uoydes the feathers an hundred years after. [Who eats the king's goose voids the feathers a hundred years after.]
I leave my parents here behind And all my friends to love resigned 'Tis grief to go, but death to stay Farewell -- I'm gone with love away.
And thou hast stolen a jewel, Death! Shall light thy dark up like a Star. A Beacon kindling from afar Our light of love and fainting faith.
Birds buildbut not I build; no, but strain, Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine,O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
Husband and wife,--so much in common, how different in type! Such a contrast, and yet such harmony, strength and weakness blended together!
If your house has Cold Mountain poems They are better for you than sutras Hang them up where you can see them Read them and read them again
There is no death! What seems so is transition; this life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life elysian, whose portal we call Death.
Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.
Whither will my path yet lead me? This path is stupid, it goes in spirals, perhaps in circles, but whichever way it goes, I will follow it.
You must find your dream...but no dream lasts forever, each dream is followed by another, and one should not cling to any particular dream.
To recognize causes is to think, and through thought alone feelings become knowledge and are not lost, but become real and begin to mature.
I feel very happy to see the sun come up every day. I feel happy to be around. ... I like to take this day- any day-and go to town with it.
As life runs on, the road grows strange with faces new - and near the end. The milestones into headstones change, Neath every one a friend.
Evil springs up, and flowers, and bears no seed, And feeds the green earth with its swift decay, Leaving it richer for the growth of truth.
Whom the heart of man shuts out, Sometimes the heart of God takes in, And fences them all round about With silence mid the worlds loud din.
It is the vain endeavor to make ourselves what we are not that has strewn history with so many broken purposes and lives left in the rough.
So we're all right, an' I, for one, Don't think our cause'll lose in vally By rammin' Scriptur' in our gun, An' gittin' Natur' for an ally.
Wealth is an inborn attitude of mind, like poverty. The pauper who has made his pile may flaunt his spoils, but cannot wear them plausibly.
O tyrant love, when held by you, We may to prudence bid adieu. [Fr., Amour! Amour! quand tu nous tiens On peut bien dire, Adieu, prudence.]
Yet there are some resting-places, / Life's untroubled interludes; / Times when neither past nor future / On the soul's deep calm intrudes.
My voice falls into Southern drawl when I am tired, drunk, or in trouble. Too often, my accent is attacked by all three of these realities.
The discovery of truth, by slow progressive meditation, is wisdom. - Intuition of truth, not preceded by perceptible meditation, is genius.
He whom common, gross, or stale objects allure, and when obtained, content, is a vulgar being, incapable of greatness in thought or action.
It was a tedious saying among hippies: if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. I was very much part of the problem.
If every gnat that flies were an archangel, all that could but tell me that there is a God; and the poorest worm that creeps tells me that.
When you defile the pleasant streams, And the wild bird's abiding place, You massacre a million dreams, And cast your spittle in God's face
Seas are the fields of combat for the winds; but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
Yellow melon flowers Crawl beneath the withered peach-trees; A date-palm throws its heavy fronds of steel Against the scoured metallic sky.
The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence; because he has no identity he is continually informing and filling some other body.
O lovely lily clean, O lily springing green, O lily bursting white, Dear lily of delight, Spring in my heart agen That I may flower to men.
The earth, though in comparison of heaven so small, nor glistering, may of solid good contain more plenty than the sun, that barren shines.
The superior man acquaints himself with many sayings of antiquity and many deeds of the past, in order to strengthen his character thereby.
If we think we regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all regulations and pastimes, all that is delightful to man.
It's widely assumed that you can't compete with free, and that seems like a reasonable thing to think. But this has not been my experience.
Prison is, indeed, a translation of your metaphysics, ethics, sense of history and whatnot into the compact terms of your daily deportment.
When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there.