You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.
Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness.
It's the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I'm a woman Phenomenally.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror. But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.
Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee And I'll forgive Thy great big one on me.
Love + Poetry quotes ⇑Love Quotes
Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- its everything except what it is!
Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
To live in this world you must be able to do three things- to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go
The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?
It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.
Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.
A truth should exist, it should not be used like this. If I love you is that a fact or a weapon?
Lovers alone wear sunlight.
I am no longer in love with her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
Life + Poetry quotes ⇑Life Quotes
Every day one should at least hear one little song, read one good poem, see one fine painting and -- if at all possible -- speak a few sensible words.
Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything, That's how the light gets in.
My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends- It gives a lovely light!
If I had my life to live over again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week.
Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.
Still, what I want in my life is to be willing to be dazzled- to cast aside the weight of facts and maybe even to float a little above this difficult world.
Life is but a day; A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way From a tree's summit.
These woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Live not for Battles Won. Live not for The-End-of-the-Song. Live in the along.
Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.
Beauty + Poetry quotes ⇑Beauty Quotes
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.
A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.
To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it.
Lovers find secret places inside this violent world where they make transactions with beauty.
If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place.
The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes...
I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty.
Short + Poetry quotes ⇑Short Quotes
Resist much, obey little.
Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
Don't use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.
Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness.
Set wide the window. Let me drink the day.
Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door.
We ran as if to meet the moon.
All Poetry Quotes ⇑
But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
The Bible has noble poetry in it... and some good morals and a wealth of obscenity, and upwards of a thousand lies.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain.
My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world and exiles me from it.
Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.
Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk.
Watch out for intellect, because it knows so much it knows nothing and leaves you hanging upside down, mouthing knowledge as your heart falls out of your mouth.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, into each life, some rain must fall
May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children.
Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed.
I love the silent hour of night, For blissful dreams may then arise, Revealing to my charmed sight What may not bless my waking eyes.
Always learn poems by heart. They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they'll make your soul impervious to the world's soft decay.
Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, For I would ride with you upon the wind, Run on the top of the disheveled tide, And dance upon the mountains like a flame.
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination.
If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever.
Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!
Freely we serve Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not; in this we stand or fall.
I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more
How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?
If you're reading this... Congratulations, you're alive. If that's not something to smile about, then I don't know what is.
I must create a system, or be enslaved by another man's. I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.
Music is the universal language of mankind.
Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
That's love: Two lonely persons keep each other safe and touch each other and talk to each other.
Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.
Poetry, she thought, wasn't written to be analyzed; it was meant to inspire without reason, to touch without understanding.
I will soothe you and heal you, I will bring you roses. I too have been covered with thorns.
Dreams, dreams. I walk them; I live them. I delude myself with them. It's a wonder I can spot reality anymore.
Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry.
To be great, be whole; Exclude nothing, exaggerate nothing that is not you. Be whole in everything. Put all you are into the smallest thing you do. So, in each lake, the moon shines with splendor Because it blooms up above.
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
The rain to the wind said, 'You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged--though not dead. I know how the flowers felt.
Solitude has soft, silky hands, but with strong fingers it grasps the heart and makes it ache with sorrow.
My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me.
I want to think again of dangerous and noble things. I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.
You fit into me like a hook into an eye a fish hook an open eye
The heart can think of no devotion Greater than being shore to the ocean- Holding the curve of one position, Counting an endless repetition.
If you want me again, look for me under your boot soles.
If I were the rain... that binds together the Earth and the sky, whom in all eternity will never mingle... Would I be able to bind two hearts together?
Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?
October, baptize me with leaves! Swaddle me in corduroy and nurse me with split pea soup. October, tuck tiny candy bars in my pockets and carve my smile into a thousand pumpkins. O autumn! O teakettle! O grace!
Looks like what drives me crazy Don't have no effect on you-- But I'm gonna keep on at it Till it drives you crazy, too.
I am probably in the sky, flying with the fish, or maybe in the ocean, swimming with the pigeons. See, my world is different
Many great works of art, poetry, and music are inspired by astral memories. The desire to do noble, beautiful things here on Earth is also often a carryover of astral experiences between a person's earth lives
Some days seem to fit together like a stained glass window. A hundred little pieces of different color and mood that, when combined, create a complete picture.
In waking, eating, working, dreaming, sleeping, serving, meditating, chanting, divinely loving, My soul constantly hums, unheard by any, God, God, God
And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair
I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
I wanted all things To seem to make some sense, So we could all be happy, yes, Instead of tense. And I made up lies So that they all fit nice, And I made this sad world A par-a-dise.
Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
in a world full of temporary things you are a perpetual feeling.
If I can see pain in your eyes then share with me your tears. If I can see joy in your eyes then share with me your smile.
If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him
"Poetry is just so emo." he said. "Oh, the pain. The pain. It always rains. In my soul."
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
If you are a dreamer- come in, If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope, a pray-er, a magic-bean-buyer, If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, For we have some flax-golden tales to spin, Come in! Come in!
I went down to the river, I sat down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn't, So I jumped in and sank.