Famous Quotes

More or Less Love Poems #11:No babeWe'd neverSwing together butthe syncopationwould be something wild

~ Diane Di Prima

Freud thought that a psychosis was a waking dream, and that poets were daydreamers too, but I wonder if the reverse is not as often true, and that madness is a fiction lived in like a rented house

~ William H. Gass

Always our wars have been our confessions of weakness

~ Muriel Rukeyser

Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.

~ John Keats

Poetry is an intimate act. It's about bringing forth something that's inside you--whether it is a memory, a philosophical idea, a deep love for another person or for the world, or an apprehension of the spiritual. It's about making something, in language, which can be transmitted to others--not as information, or polemic, but as irreducible art.

~ Dorianne Laux

The poet knows that he speaks adequately, then, only when he speaks somewhat wildly.

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

After the leaves have fallen, we returnTo a plain sense of things. It is as ifWe had come to an end of the imagination,Inanimate in an inert savoir.

~ Wallace Stevens

Stars in the night,' he said. 'Something something something something, some delight

~ Philippa Gregory

A pear should come to the table popped with juice,Ripened in warmth and served in warmth. On termsLike these, autumn beguiles the fatalist.

~ Wallace Stevens

I began composing the next poem, the one that was to be written next. Not the last poem of those I had read, but the poem written in the head of someone who may never have existed but who had certainly written another poem nonetheless, and just never had the chance to commit it to ink and the page.

~ Steve Erickson

When someone offers you lines like that, he must be Mephistopheles and you must be Faust. You know you shouldn't succumb to such language, but you succumb.

~ William Logan

How far away the stars seem, and how farIs our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!

~ W.b. Yeats

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bedAnd sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.(I think I made you up inside my head.)

~ Sylvia Plath

Once in a while i am struckall over again... by just how blue the sky appears .. on wind-played autumn mornings, blue enoughto bruise a heart.

~ Sanober Khan

At the edge of madness you howl diamonds and pearls.

~ Aberjhani

I think here I will leave you. It has come to seemthere is no perfect ending.Indeed, there are infinite endings.Or perhaps, once one begins,there are only endings.

~ Louise Glück

Xs and OsLove is a gameof tic-tac-toe,constantly waiting,for the next x or o.

~ Lang Leav

I don’t need your praiseto survive. I was here first, before you were here, beforeyou ever planted a garden.And I’ll be here when only the sun and moonare left, and the sea, and the wide field.I will constitute the field.

~ Louise Glück

To see the Summer SkyIs Poetry, though never in a Book it lie—True Poems flee—

~ Emily Dickinson

What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.No time to stand beneath the boughsAnd stare as long as sheep or cows...

~ W.h. Davies

I shivered in thosesolitudeswhen I heardthe voiceofthe saltin the desert.

~ Pablo Neruda

I sleep with thee, and wake with thee,And yet thou are not there;I fill my arms with thoughts of thee,And press the common air.

~ John Clare

Your politics are so far right,They're wrong.

~ Harry Whitewolf

Surprised by joy- impatient as the WindI turned to share the transport-- Oh! with whomBut thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,That spot which no vicissitude can find?Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee? Through what power,Even for the least division of an hour,Have I been so beguiled as to be blindTo my most grievous loss? -- That thought's returnWas the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;That neither present time, nor years unbornCould to my sight that heavenly face restore.

~ William Wordsworth

Not in the clamor of the crowded street,Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng,But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

~ John Clare

Language has not the power to speak what love inditesThe soul lies buried in the Ink that writes

~ John Clare

evet kimsesizdik ama umudumuz vardıüç ev görsek bir şehir sanıyorduküç güvercin görsek meksika geliyordu aklımızacaddelerde gezmekten hoşlanıyorduk akşamlarıkadınların kocalarını aramasını seviyorduksonra şarap içiyorduk kırmızı yahut beyazbilir bilmez geyikli gece yüzünden

~ Turgut Uyar

during my worst timeson the park benchesin the jailsor living withwhoresI always had this certaincontentment-I wouldn't call ithappiness-it was more of an innerbalancethat settled forwhatever was occuringand it helped in thefactoriesand when relationshipswent wrongwith thegirls.it helpedthrough thewars and thehangoversthe backalley fightsthehospitals.to awaken in a cheap roomin a strange city andpull up the shade-this was the craziest kind ofcontentmentand to walk across the floorto an old dresser with acracked mirror-see myself, ugly,grinning at it all.what matters most ishow well youwalk through thefire.

~ Charles Bukowski

ld heads forgetful of their sins,Old, learned, respectable bald headsEdit and annotate the linesThat young men, tossing on their beds,Rhymed out in love’s despairTo flatter beauty’s ignorant ear.They’ll cough in the ink to the world’s end;Wear out the carpet with their shoesEarning respect; have no strange friend;If they have sinned nobody knows.Lord, what would they sayShould their Catullus walk that way?

~ W.b. Yeats

I took her to bed with silk and song'Lay still, my love, I won’t be long,I must prepare my body for passion.''O, your body you give, but all else you ration...

~ Roman Payne

In a pine tree,A few yards away from my window sill,A brilliant blue jay is springing up and down, up and down,On a branch.I laugh, as I see him abandon himselfTo entire delight, for he knows as well as I doThat the branch will not break.

~ James Wright

When wounds are healed by love,The scars are beautiful.

~ David Bowles

The same hot lightning that burns your blood with passion–– cools your fears with peace.

~ Aberjhani

How you die out in me:down to the lastworn-out knot of breathyou're there, with a splinter of life.

~ Paul Celan

Publishing a book of poetry is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.

~ Don Marquis

I will meet you on the nape of your neck one day, on the surface of intention, word becoming act.We will breathe into each other the high mountain tales, where the snows come from, where the waters begin.”-In the yellow time of pollen

~ Luke Davies

I am waiting for the war to be fought which will make the world safe for anarchy

~ Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The way through the worldIs more difficult to find than the way beyond it.

~ Wallace Stevens

Immortal amarant, a flower which onceIn paradise, fast by the tree of life,Began to bloom; but soon for man's offenceTo heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows,And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life,And where the river of bliss through midst of heavenRolls o'er elysian flowers her amber stream:With these that never fade the spirits electBind their resplendent locks.

~ John Milton