Quotes by Poets - Page 38

Valentine's Day is the poet's holiday.
Ted Kooser
forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.and perhaps it will be pleasing to have remembered these things one day
Virgil
Anger's like a battery that leaks acid right out of meAnd it starts from the heart 'til it reaches my outer me
Criss Jami
In a rich moonlit garden, flowers open beneath the eyes of entire nations terrified to acknowledge the simplicity of the beauty of peace.
Aberjhani
To hear never-heard sounds, To see never-seen colors and shapes, To try to understand the imperceptible Power pervading the world; To fly and find pure ethereal substances That are not of matter But of that invisible soul pervading reality. To hear another soul and to whisper to another soul; To be a lantern in the darkness Or an umbrella in a stormy day; To feel much more than know. To be the eyes of an eagle, slope of a mountain; To be a wave understanding the influence of the moon; To be a tree and read the memory of the leaves; To be an insignificant pedestrian on the streets Of crazy cities watching, watching, and watching. To be a smile on the face of a woman And shine in her memory As a moment saved without planning.
Dejan Stojanovic
And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
John Milton
A poet should be so crafty with words that he is envied even for his pains.
Criss Jami
Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance.
Anne Sexton
After the first glass of vodkayou can accept just about anythingof life even your own mysteriousnessyou think it is nice that a boxof matches is purple and brown and is called La Petite and comes from Swedenfor they are words that you know and that is all you know words not their feelings or what they mean and you write because you know them not because you understand them because you don't you are stupid and lazy and will never be great but you do what you know because what else is there?
Frank O'Hara
first of all nothing will happen and a little laternothing will happen again
Leonard Cohen
So sweet and delicious do I become,when I am in bed with a manwho, I sense, loves and enjoys me,that the pleasure I bring excels all delight,so the knot of love, however tightit seemed before, is tied tighter still.
Veronica Franco
Note, to-day, an instructive, curious spectacle and conflict. Science, (twin, in its fields, of Democracy in its)—Science, testing absolutely all thoughts, all works, has already burst well upon the world—a sun, mounting, most illuminating, most glorious—surely never again to set. But against it, deeply entrench'd, holding possession, yet remains, (not only through the churches and schools, but by imaginative literature, and unregenerate poetry,) the fossil theology of the mythic-materialistic, superstitious, untaught and credulous, fable-loving, primitive ages of humanity.
Walt Whitman
To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.
Edgar Allan Poe
Poetry = Anger x Imagination
Sherman Alexie
April is the cruelest month, breedinglilacs out of the dead land, mixingmemory and desire, stirringdull roots with spring rain.
T.S Eliot
Through synergy of intellect, artistry and grace came into existence the blessing of a dancer.
Shah Asad Rizvi
Burdened no more is soul for whom life flows through dance and not breath.
Shah Asad Rizvi
Why are we afraid of the silence that ensues after our death? Wasn’t it the same silence we endured before birth? Isn’t it the same silence we revel in when we are completely immersed in the present moment? Let us not be afraid.
Kamand Kojouri
The thing about love is that you will never run out of it. It's an ever-flowing river. So go ahead and LOVE. What are you saving all this love for — death?
Kamand Kojouri
I became an artist because I wanted to be an active participant in the conversation about art.
Kamand Kojouri
I cannot imagine how much I must’ve suffered in my previous lives to be fortunate enough to have parents like you in this life.
Kamand Kojouri
She might not have read many books. But when she reads a book, she swallows the very words. If you open the books on her shelves, you will find that the front and back covers encase white pages.
Kamand Kojouri
You loved him enough to let him leave… Now you need to love yourself enough to let him go.
Ranata Suzuki
Wake up. If your eyes are sleeping then wipe them gently. You need to be awake for this. It is a matter of life and death. Wake up! If your mind is sleeping then shake it quickly. You need to be awake for this. It is a matter of life and death. Wake up, I said! If your heart is sleeping then beat your chest! You need to be awake for life! You need to be awake for love! It is a matter of living and being alive.
Kamand Kojouri
She wears it so beautifully doesn’t she, her pain… Always smiling, always positive…. always happy to help… It’s like a garment perfectly tailored to fit the way she carries it… with a touch of grace… and the quietness of that sad smile…. All so you’d never know how heavy it really was.
Ranata Suzuki
I had always wanted to hear those words.I had always wanted to be your girl.
Ranata Suzuki
For you are you, and I am I, and once we were we… but as long as I exist and so do you – know that I will always love you.
Ranata Suzuki
I didn’t love you to seek revenge.I didn’t love you out of loneliness or unhappiness.I didn’t love you for any of the misguided reasons that time might convince you I did.I just loved you because you’re you.
Ranata Suzuki
It hurts that I was just one page in the book of your life…But what hurts more is knowing you’ll revise that chapter someday….….. and you’ll erase me completely.
Ranata Suzuki
Our parting was like a stalemate….Neither of us won. Yet both of us lost.And worse still … that unshakable feeling that nothing was ever really finished.
Ranata Suzuki
A kiss….….. is just a kiss….Until it’s all you reminisce.(Then the memory becomes your most treasured possession.)
Ranata Suzuki
I know he wasn’t perfect…But he did the best impression of it I’ve ever seen.
Ranata Suzuki
The day he came home from the hospital, he cried. I held him. I thought he would never stop.I knew that a part of him would never be the same.They cracked more than his ribs.
Benjamin Alire Sáenz
They say “Follow your heart”….…. But I can’t follow you where you’re going…
Ranata Suzuki
Perhaps I was easier to shake off for you because you’re such a together person. I was just an extra layer on the outside… like a blanket you could shrug off and feel just the same…. except maybe a little colder….But I was always a broken person that was haphazardly held together by little more than my own strength. And so you just seeped in the cracks and mingled with my insides until you became an inseparable part of me. And as painful as that is, it still kind of warms me to know I will always carry a part of you with me.
Ranata Suzuki
How many times did we pass each other before we met? If only I’d known…. I would have searched for you endlessly.If only I’d found you before it was already too late.
Ranata Suzuki
I raised you so high that every other man on earth is now doomed to live in your shadow.
Ranata Suzuki
Every quote, every book, every film seemed to suggest that ‘one day’ someone would come into my life and love me with an intensity and a passion I had never experienced before. And to their credit they were right; It all came and went so fast it really did feel as if it were just ‘one day’....
Ranata Suzuki
It’s difficult for me to imagine the rest of my life without you. But I suppose I don’t have to imagine it... I just have to live it
Ranata Suzuki
I believe in love at first sight…But it’s not the first moment you lay eyes on a person, it’s the moment you first see the person they truly are.
Ranata Suzuki
I would have followed you to hell and back... if only you'd lead me back.
Ranata Suzuki
I live to inspire, not start the fire.
Jonathan Anthony Burkett
Though these words will never find you, I hope that you knew I was thinking of you today….. and that I was wishing you every happiness.Love Always,The girl you loved once.
Ranata Suzuki
When you experience loss, people say you’ll move through the 5 stages of grief….Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance….. What they don’t tell you is that you’ll cycle through them all every day.
Ranata Suzuki
Each time you say hello to a stranger, your heart acknowledges over and over again that we are all family.
Suzy Kassem
Life into death— Life’s other shape, No rupture, Only crossing.
Dejan Stojanovic
Search for the stranger inside you, forgotten even by your death.
Sorin Cerin
Cine n-ar dori să moară visând că moare?
Saşa Pană
Oh dire, dreadful death, you drag your heels.Why dawdle and draw back? You drown my heart.
Simon Armitage
We are all dust passing through the air, the difference is, some are flying high in the sky, while others are flying low. But eventually, we all settle on the same ground.
Anthony Liccione
All primitive people are frightened of owls,' said Harley. 'The villagers here are scared to death of the gufo. Birds of ill omen. If they see one, they think they'll die. But they never do. See one, I mean, of course,' he added with a laugh.
Francis Brett Young
He was just a small church parson when thetwar broke out, and heLooked and dressed and acted like all parsonstthat we see.He wore the cleric's broadcloth and he hookedthis vest behind.But he had a man's religion and he had a stongtman's mind.And he heard the call to duty, and he quit histchurch and went.And he bravely tramped right with 'em every-twhere the boys were sent.He put aside his broadcloth and he put thetkhaki on;Said he'd come to be a soldier and was goingtto live like one.Then he'd refereed the prize fights that the boystpulled off at night,And if no one else was handy he'd put on thetgloves and fight.He wasn't there a fortnight ere he saw the sol-tdiers' needs,And he said: "I'm done with preaching; thistis now the time for deeds."He learned the sound of shrapnel, he could telltthe size of shellFrom the shriek it make above him, and he knewtjust where it fell.In the front line trench he laboured, and he knewtthe feel of mud,And he didn't run from danger and he wasn'ttscared of blood.He wrote letters for the wounded, and he cheeredtthem with his jokes,And he never made a visit without passing round the smokes.Then one day a bullet got him, as he knelt be-tside a ladWho was "going west" right speedy, and theytboth seemed mighty glad,'Cause he held the boy's hand tighter, and he tsmiled and whispered low,"Now you needn't fear the journey; over theretwith you I'll go."And they both passed out together, arm in armtI think they went.He had kept his vow to follow everywhere thetboys were sent.
Edgar A. Guest
O, that this too too solid flesh would meltThaw and resolve itself into a dew!Or that the Everlasting had not fix'dHis canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,Seem to me all the uses of this world!Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,That grows to seed; things rank and gross in naturePossess it merely. That it should come to this!But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two:So excellent a king; that was, to this,Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my motherThat he might not beteem the winds of heavenVisit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,As if increase of appetite had grownBy what it fed on: and yet, within a month--Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!--A little month, or ere those shoes were oldWith which she follow'd my poor father's body,Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she--O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle,My father's brother, but no more like my fatherThan I to Hercules: within a month:Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tearsHad left the flushing in her galled eyes,She married. O, most wicked speed, to postWith such dexterity to incestuous sheets!It is not nor it cannot come to good:But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.
William Shakespeare
La vida es mi tortura y la muerte será mi descanso.
William Shakespeare
Death is a part of Life, they are dancing together the dance of infinity in front of the gates of Time. We can live our dreams as we are dreaming our future. Time is the Endless Consciousness
Grigoris Deoudis
The idea that all souls are mortal is the only notion surely terminating love and all its forms.
Criss Jami
poor boy! I never knew you, Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you
Walt Whitman
When the star dies, Its eye closes; tired of watching, It flies back to its first bright dream.
Dejan Stojanovic
Tell her thisAnd more,—That the king of the seasWeeps too, old, helpless man.The bustling fatesHeap his hands with corpsesUntil he stands like a childWith surplus of toys.
Stephen Crane
Obedient to no man, dependent only on weather and season, without a goal before them or a roof above them, owning nothing, open to every whim of fate, the homeless wanderers lead their childlike, brave, shabby existence. They are the sons of Adam, who was driven out of Paradise; the brothers of the animals, of innocence. Out of heaven's hand they accept what is given them from moment to moment: sun, rain, fog, snow, warmth, cold, comfort, and hardship; time does not exist for them and neither does history, or ambition, or that bizarre idol called progress and evolution, in which houseowners believe so desperately. A wayfarer may be delicate or crude, artful or awkward, brave or cowardly—he is always a child at heart, living in the first day of creation, before the beginning of the history of the world, his life always guided by a few simple instincts and needs. He may be intelligent or stupid; he may be deeply aware of the fleeting fragility of all living things, of how pettily and fearfully each living creature carries its bit of warm blood through the glaciers of cosmic space, or he may merely follow the commands of his poor stomach with childlike greed—he is always the opponent, the deadly enemy of the established proprietor, who hates him, despises him, or fears him, because he does not wish to be reminded that all existence is transitory, that life is constantly wilting, that merciless icy death fills the cosmos all around.
Hermann Hesse