Quotes by Poets - Page 205

all hopes there, so close to each other,are pulled into the void every night;when a band of pale twinkles milking the wayacross the divine breadth of skywhere every heart belongs.- From the poem "The Universe In Blossom
Munia Khan
We are surrounded by the absurd excess of the universe. By meaningless bulk, vastness without size, power without consequence. The stubborn iteration that is present without being felt. Nothing the spirit can marry. Merely phenomenon and its physics. An endless, endless of going on. No habitat where the brain can recognize itself. No pertinence for the heart. Helpless duplication.
Jack Gilbert
The Smile of a Child enlarge the universe (D'un enfant le sourire - Agrandit l'univers)
Charles de Leusse
...look up and see the madnessorganized in the stars.
Kelli Russell Agodon
With its proud wings of the eagle, lighter than air; In harmony with the universe, and always be full-fledged.
Kristian Goldmund Aumann
You can judge me all you want, but it's just ridiculous coz we're both part of the same universe. Let's just ride the horses into the meadow and let them roll in the delightful grass.
Jay Woodman
Her love could stretch on unconditionally and endlessly, like
it’s a universe within her. I’m drawn to the edge of that universe. I’d like to fall into a black hole of it somehow. I just whisper, “God.
Gregory Sherl
Love. And again, see I don't mean, I think love is that condition in the human spirit so profund, that it allows us to forgive, and it may be the energy which keeps the stars in the firmament, I'm not sure. It may be the energy which keeps the blood running smoothly through our veins. I'm not sure, but it's something beyond the explanation. It can be used for anything you can explain. Any good thing you can explain.
Maya Angelou
Everything is connected to everything else, and nothing is without consequence
David Huddle
FAITH IS THE EMPEROR OF DREAMSA great emperor is born from one tiny sperm.A large eagle grows from one small egg.A giant tree grows from one tiny seedling.For the newborn and wise,Everything begins small.However, it is faith that buildsthe staircase to your dreams.Always have faith in yourselfand the universe,For one will not get you anywherewithout the other.Both must be equally strong to reach your desires,For they are the wings that will lift you to your dreams.Not a single bird makes its first leap From a tree without faith.And not a single animal in the junglestarts each day without faith.Faith is the flame that eliminates fear,And faith is the true emperorof dreams.
Suzy Kassem
Knowledge is as infinite as the universe. The man who claims to know all, only reveals to all that he really knows nothing.
Suzy Kassem
Dust is the parent of a star!
Munia Khan
It is perhaps, plausible that a man in this situation, impressed with the unconcern of the universe, should see the innumerable flaws of his life and have them taste wickedly in his mind and wish for another chance.
Stephen Crane
Everything turns, rotates, spins, circles, loops, pulsates, resonates, and repeats.
Suzy Kassem
Things began happening with odd synchronicity, as if the universe itself was conspiring on behalf of their love story.
John Mark Green
Her kiss dissolves the universe. In that moment, I am unmade and then reborn.
John Mark Green
We are the universe seeking truth.
Jay Woodman
Says, Rahula! Rahula! Face of Glory! Universe chawed and swallowed!
Jack Kerouac
You are the universe - that's why it shines!
Jay Woodman
Never underestimate the power within you, because you may be the only person in the entire universe to solve a specific problem.
Gift Gugu Mona
The reward for being sensitive is that we’re held by the Universe, the way the ocean in its buoyancy holds up a raft.
Mark Nepo
Or sit they girt by laws unknownWhereto the senses serve as bars –With fire of unrecorded starsThat light a heaven not our own?(“The Testimony of the Suns”)
George Sterling
The unfolding of a Spermatic Aura like a sheet in the Universe. That we are ~
Grigoris Deoudis
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Max Ehrmann
Be still and know you are loved –Feel the arms of the universeRocking you to its steady hum.
Jay Woodman
You are a child of the universeCome to choose how to live here.You are a child of the universeLoved beyond measure.
Jay Woodman
Light, Life and Love are like three glow-worms at thy feet: the whole universe of stars, the dewdrops on the grass whereon thou walkest!
Aleister Crowley
Is it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids and immensities of the universe, and thus stabs us from behind with the thought of annihilation, when beholding the white depths of the milky way? Or is it, that as in essence whiteness is not so much a color as the visible absence of color; and at the same time the concrete of all colors; is it for these reasons that there is such a dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a wide landscape of snows- a colorless, all-color of atheism from which we shrink? And when we consider that other theory of the natural philosophers, that all other earthly hues — every stately or lovely emblazoning — the sweet tinges of sunset skies and woods; yea, and the gilded velvets of butterflies, and the butterfly cheeks of young girls; all these are but subtile deceits, not actually inherent in substances, but only laid on from without; so that all deified Nature absolutely paints like the harlot, whose allurements cover nothing but the charnel-house within; and when we proceed further, and consider that the mystical cosmetic which produces every one of her hues, the great principle of light, for ever remains white or colorless in itself, and if operating without medium upon matter, would touch all objects, even tulips and roses, with its own blank tinge — pondering all this, the palsied universe lies before us a leper; and like wilful travellers in Lapland, who refuse to wear colored and coloring glasses upon their eyes, so the wretched infidel gazes himself blind at the monumental white shroud that wraps all the prospect around him. And of all these things the Albino whale was the symbol. Wonder ye then at the fiery hunt?
Herman Melville
The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite, perhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries.
Jorge Luis Borges
Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Pablo Neruda
Whether or not it is clear to you,no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Max Ehrmann
I have this idea that the reason we have dreams is that we're thinking about things that we don't know we're thinking about-and those things, well, they sneak out of us in our dreams. Maybe we're like tires with too much air in them. The air has to leak out. That's what dreams are.
Benjamin Alire Sáenz
I guess I did miss Dante-even though I tried hard to not think about him. The problem with trying hard not to think about something was that you thought about it even more.
Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Love your neighbor, even the ones who do not show you the same courtesy. You can’t expect to receive love if you’re selective and not really willing to give it. What you put into the world, you will indeed get back, even if it’s not from the person you’re expecting it to be.
Alexandra Elle
It is shocking how many crimes the Bible contains. The Governor's wife should cut them all out and paste them into her scrapbook.
Margaret Atwood
I believe if I Piss God off one more time. I'll be eligible to win a free Bible
Stanley Victor Paskavich
It is ever true that he who does nothing for others, does nothing for himself.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Death moved in the night, in search for blood, and when it found Life, it passed on by, like a cloud that moves by the face of the moon. When he found those dead without the red, he took the life before them born first, and the mourning emptied itself till the morning.
Anthony Liccione
The central fact of biblical history, the birth of the Messiah, more than any other, presupposes the design of Providence in the selecting and uniting of successive producers, and the real, paramount interest of the biblical narratives is concentrated on the various and wondrous fates, by which are arranged the births and combinations of the 'fathers of God.' But in all this complicated system of means, having determined in the order of historical phenomena the birth of the Messiah, there was no room for love in the proper meaning of the word. Love is, of course, encountered in the Bible, but only as an independent fact and not as an instrument in the process of the genealogy of Christ. The sacred book does not say that Abram took Sarai to wife by force of an ardent love, and in any case Providence must have waited until this love had grown completely cool for the centenarian progenitors to produce a child of faith, not of love. Isaac married Rebekah not for love but in accordance with an earlier formed resolution and the design of his father. Jacob loved Rachel, but this love turned out to be unnecessary for the origin of the Messiah. He was indeed to be born of a son of Jacob - Judah - but the latter was the offspring, not of Rachel but of the unloved wife, Leah. For the production in the given generation of the ancestor of the Messiah, what was necessary was the union of Jacob precisely with Leah; but to attain this union Providence did not awaken in Jacob any powerful passion of love for the future mother of the 'father of God' - Judah. Not infringing the liberty of Jacob's heartfelt feeling, the higher power permitted him to love Rachel, but for his necessary union with Leah it made use of means of quite a different kind: the mercenary cunning of a third person - devoted to his own domestic and economic interests - Laban. Judah himself, for the production of the remote ancestors of the Messiah, besides his legitimate posterity, had in his old age to marry his daughter-in-law Tamar. Seeing that such a union was not at all in the natural order of things, and indeed could not take place under ordinary conditions, that end was attained by means of an extremely strange occurrence very seductive to superficial readers of the Bible. Nor in such an occurrence could there be any talk of love. It was not love which combined the priestly harlot Rahab with the Hebrew stranger; she yielded herself to him at first in the course of her profession, and afterwards the casual bond was strengthened by her faith in the power of the new God and in the desire for his patronage for herself and her family. It was not love which united David's great-grandfather, the aged Boaz, with the youthful Moabitess Ruth, and Solomon was begotten not from genuine, profound love, but only from the casual, sinful caprice of a sovereign who was growing old.
Vladimir Sergeyevich Solovyov
There is a difference between criticizing people and criticizing a people's uninformed ideals. That is, unless one defines himself or others by their ideals, then he is offended, and usually offended secretly. Because oddly enough, this person is the same person quickest to resort to dismissive name-calling, such as 'bigot' or 'zealot'. And oddly enough, he is always the one, the 'open-minded' one, who adamantly protests for, not only himself, but others not to listen to any type of scholarly theological truth inherently for the sake of his own personal, moral beliefs.
Criss Jami
With what dread and apprehension we entrust important jobs into the hands of others. Imagine the love of a needless God who is willing to want our work.
Calvin Miller
I still believe that many Americans have a deep longing for that glorious moment when a sermon is more Biblical than American.
Criss Jami
O guide my judgment and my taste,Sweet Spirit, author of the bookOf wonders, told in language chasteAnd plainness, not to be mistook. O let me muse, and yet at sightThe page admire, the page believe;"Let there be light, and there was light,Let there be Paradise and Eve!"Who his soul's rapture can refrain?At Joseph's ever pleasing taleOf marvels, the prodigious train,To Sinai's hill from Goshen's vale.The psalmist and proverbial seer,And all the prophets sons of song,Make all things precious, all things dear,And bear the brilliant word along. O take the book from off the shelf,And con it meekly on thy knees;Best panegyric on itself,And self-avouch'd to teach and please.Respect, adore it heart and mind.How greatly sweet, how sweetly grand,Who reads the most, is most refind'd,And polish'd by the Master's hand.
Christopher Smart
Whence but from heaven, could men unskilled in arts,In several ages born, in several parts,Weave such agreeing truths? Or how, or why, Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie?
John Dryden
You don't have to go back to the way things were. Just go back to the point where you left off. Don't start over... just keep going, but there's a right way of keeping going. And no one here is going to be angry at you for leaving. We all have to leave sometimes. And some of us never come back. But there's always a choice, even if you've already decided never to return. You can still come back from this. That is the only kind of faith that matters. Not in the world, not in...God..., not in our friendship... just in yourself.
Dave Matthes
There is nothing, he tells me, more odious than a German. However, their women are seductive, and they make the world's most beautiful music. My employer sings me a German song. He sounds like a buffalo in distress. Afterward he makes me read to him from the Bible.
Sofia Samatar
But then I sigh, with a piece of ScriptureTell them that God bids us to do evil for good; And thus I clothe my naked villanyWith odd old ends stolen out of Holy Writ;And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
William Shakespeare
Down through the years, I turned to the Bible and found in it all that I needed
Ruth Bell Graham
A voice is a human gift; it should be cherished and used, to utter fully human speech as possible. Powerlessness and silence go together.
Margaret Atwood
Count the times. The number of times you have seen the silence of another world seep though a crack. The number of times you have heard the sea trying to escape from the blue painted wall.
Jay Woodman
I would like to sing someone to sleep,to sit beside someone and be there.I would like to rock you and sing softlyand go with you to and from sleep.I would like to be the one in the housewho knew: The night was cold.And I would like to listen in and listen outinto you, into the world, into the woods.The clocks shout to one another striking,and one sees to the bottom of time.And down below one last, strange man walks byand rouses a strange dog.And after that comes silence.I have laid my eyes upon you wide;and they hold you gently and let you gowhen something stirs in the dark.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Those who speak largely of the human condition are usually those most exempt from its oppressions - whether of sex, race, or servitude.
Adrienne Rich
Because this painting has never been restored there is a heightened poignance to it somehow; it doesn’t have the feeling of unassailable permanence that paintings in museums do.There is a small crack in the lower left, and a little of the priming between the wooden panel and the oil emulsions of paint has been bared. A bit of abrasion shows, at the rim of a bowl of berries, evidence of time’s power even over this—which, paradoxically, only seems to increase its poetry, its deep resonance. If you could see the notes of a cello, when the bow draws slowly and deeply across its strings, and those resonant reverberations which of all instruments’ are nearest to the sound of the human voice emerge—no, the wrong verb, they seem to come into being all at once, to surround us, suddenly, with presence—if that were made visible, that would be the poetry of Osias Beert.But the still life resides in absolute silence.Portraits often seem pregnant with speech, or as if their subjects have just finished saying something, or will soon speak the thoughts that inform their faces, the thoughts we’re invited to read. Landscapes are full of presences, visible or unseen; soon nymphs or a stag or a band of hikers will make themselves heard.But no word will ever be spoken here, among the flowers and snails, the solid and dependable apples, this heap of rumpled books, this pewter plate on which a few opened oysters lie, giving up their silver.These are resolutely still, immutable, poised for a forward movement that will never occur. The brink upon which still life rests is the brink of time, the edge of something about to happen. Everything that we know crosses this lip, over and over, like water over the edge of a fall, as what might happen does, as any of the endless variations of what might come true does so, and things fall into being, tumble through the progression of existing in time.Painting creates silence. You could examine the objects themselves, the actors in a Dutch still life—this knobbed beaker, this pewter salver, this knife—and, lovely as all antique utilitarian objects are, they are not, would not be, poised on the edge these same things inhabit when they are represented.These things exist—if indeed they are still around at all—in time. It is the act of painting them that makes them perennially poised, an emergent truth about to be articulated, a word waiting to be spoken. Single word that has been forming all these years in the light on the knife’s pearl handle, in the drops of moisture on nearly translucent grapes: At the end of time, will that word be said?
Mark Doty
The handless clock trying to holdthe hour of death, saltin the last mouthful of water.The windows opaque with silence,silence stagnating in the wineglass.
Warren Heiti
Fear envelops bones like new skin,envelops blood with night’s skin,the earth moves beneath the soles of the feet -it is not your hair but the terror in your head,like long hair made of vertical nails,and what you see are not shattered streets,but rather, within you, your own crushed walls,your frustrated infinity, again the city comescrashing down: in your silence, only water’s threatis heard, and in the waterdrowned horses gallop through your death.
Pablo Neruda
There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape.And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
Kahlil Gibran
But it is the subjects, the conversations, the facts we shy away from, which claim us in the form of writer's block, as mere rhetoric, as hysteria, insomnia, and constriction of the throat.
Adrienne Rich
THE TRUTH OF THE VERY SMALLWhen he is born, a baby's head is filled with the knowledge of space. The circumference of his skull is as infinite as the twirlings of the universe. His eyes look out with the blur of eyes which see for all species. He has remembered his own nature from past patterns. Now his heart beats through rock, sky, oceans. He feels the silence and the sound all around the world beneath his skin.We all hold somewhere deep within us the truth we accepted in innocence. The seas, the forests, the soil, the atmosphere, are all vital parts of an ongoing system. By harming any part of it we must ultimately harm ourselves. It is that simple.
Jay Woodman
Silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves together ... Speech is too often ... the act of quite stifling and suspending thought, so that there is none to conceal ... Speech is of Time, silence is of Eternity ... It is idle to think that, by means of words, any real communication can ever pass from one man to another ...
Maurice Maeterlinck
the silence of God is God.
Carolyn Forché