Quotes by Poets - Page 7

One day a week I seek to rest from earthly toil and sorrow.Revitalized, I find the strength to battle new tomorrows.
Richelle E. Goodrich
If all of our sins, bad habits, and poor choices were permanently inked into our skin like tattoos, we would all dress quite modestly.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Problems are never as difficult as when they are your own.
Richelle E. Goodrich
One of the strongest loves I’ve ever witnessed is the love a mother has for her child.
Richelle E. Goodrich
I never knew what Mother knowed,Like how a thread and needle sewed,And how a kiss healed boo-boos fast.Why family knots were made to last.I never knew how Mother sawA caring man in angry pa,A smile beneath the teary gloom,A game inside a messy room.I never knowed what Mother knew,Like how to smile when days were blue,And how to laugh for laughter’s sake,While giving up her slice of cake.I never saw what Mother see’dLike honor pulling garden weeds,Or deep confessions in a look,And hope alive in storybooks.I never knew how Mother knowedTo hand out carrots when it snowed,And why hot cocoa liked the rain,While naptime kept a person sane.For mother knowed and see’d it all.A winner in a strike-out ball.A 'yes, please' in a shoulder shrug.A 'love you mostest' in a hug.Perhaps, someday, I’ll come to knowWhat Mother saw and knowed as so.Like how 'I’m right' can be all wrong,And why the night requires a song.But of the things I learned and knewI never doubted one thing true.My mother made it crystal clear,she knowed and loved me ever dear.
Richelle E. Goodrich
The whispers you hear in your ear that you fear in the air everywhere,they are ghosts.The moans and the groans in the lowest of tones no one owns or condones, they are ghosts.You might deem them gremlins or water or wind,while others say shadows or rodents or sin.But oh! I say no! ‘Tis not so, child, for lo!The chills that you feel in a thrill that proves goose bumps are frightfully real,they are ghosts!
Richelle E. Goodrich
You won’t solve your problems by drowning others in them.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Anyone who takes the time to attentively listen is either an old soul or a romantic one.
Richelle E. Goodrich
No one believes he is an idiot until the consequences of his actions prove it. Then hindsight rubs it in.
Richelle E. Goodrich
If you mess with dragons, you will get burned. Don’t say no one warned you.
Richelle E. Goodrich
I let my sword slip to the ground, and for the second time I stood unarmed in the presence of werewolves.Kresh put his lips to my forehead, and my skin burned beneath his kiss. When his hands repositioned to take me by the waist, my breathing—already shallow—ceased entirely. Then his lips fell on mine and I was suddenly everything he claimed me to be—his mate, his wife, his world.The taste of him seemed mysteriously new and old at the same time. Every bit of tension eased as if internally I had come home again, and yet a sense of foreignness made our connection a sweet venture. My breast was afire as he continued to grasp my hips, keeping me close. I burned for him as if vampire venom were coursing through every inch of me. The man was a constellation of suns in my desire, unlike Thaddeus who hardly equaled a speck of stardust. The thought of that coward reminded me of grim news. It took every bit of willpower I possessed to tear my lips away from what they craved, and yet I remained a submissive puddle in this werewolf’s arms.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Turn around….you’ve got grass and dead flowers…”My fingers naturally began to comb through my long, black strands, shaking things loose as Sarti carefully removed more stubborn pieces. The flowers had been left over from my forced marriage to Thaddeus. The grass, from a sensual night with Kresh the eve of my honeymoon. Devilish irony.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Kresh kept silent beside me as Baron rehearsed his deadly plan. I listened with my eyes aimed at the horizon, witnessing the night consume a final red vein of daylight. It struck me that nightfall always drowned the sunset. Never did the sun resurface from where it sank, nor would it ever.
Richelle E. Goodrich
The fact is, the man who’d begotten me didn’t want me. In his eyes I should never have been born. And perhaps that would’ve been best. As it was, my existence had proven to be nothing more than a nuisance for everyone. I angered my father, brought strife upon my mother, irritated my teachers, and annoyed the other children who were forced to interact with me in school. All by simply being. tWhen you aren’t loved, you aren’t real. Life is cold, like the stone against my palm.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Vengeance, retaliation, retribution, revenge are deceitful brothers—vile, beguiling demons promising justifiable compensation to a pained soul for his losses. Yet in truth they craftily fester away all else of worth remaining.
Richelle E. Goodrich
It isn’t always true that a critical end justifies desperate means.
Richelle E. Goodrich
I love you.I love you a thousand times.I love you an irrational number. And I will continue to love youlong after all this has died and been rebornand we are nothing more than a pair of reincarnated eyes.
Kamand Kojouri
She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.
William Shakespeare
Life is just repeated attempts at trying to do better.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Who told you it was too late? And more importantly, why did you choose to believe them?
Richelle E. Goodrich
Ever notice the word 'rough' in through? There is truth to that, though the way may be rough, we are still able to get through it.
Anthony Liccione
Love will commit, or love will commit suicide.
Anthony Liccione
When I finally find that one willing agent, I'll have found my prize in the Cracker Jack box.
Richelle E. Goodrich
In a certain sense, you do write to seduce the world, but when it happens, you begin to feel like a whore. The disparity between your life and your work turns out to be as great as ever. And the people seduced by your work are usually seduced by all the wrong reasons.
Erica Jong
I might be tempted to socialize more if the conversations taking place around me were half as interesting as the dialogue going on inside my head.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Beginning a novel is always hard. It feels like going nowhere. I always have to write at least 100 pages that go into the trashcan before it finally begins to work. It's discouraging, but necessary to write those pages. I try to consider them pages -100 to zero of the novel.
Barbara Kingsolver
Every writer must acknowledge and be able to handle the unalterable fact that he has, in effect, given himself a life sentence in solitary confinement.
Peter Straub
Yet should there hover in their restless headsOne thought, one grace, one wonder at the least,Which into words no virtue can digest.
Christopher Marlowe
I truly don’t understand why at every Q and A, someone always asks, “Do you have a routine?” or “Do you write every morning?” Why those questions remain interesting, I really have no idea. But since no one’s putting a gun to their head to ask them, they must compel. They’re probably necessary on a symbolic level more than a literal one, as people cobble together an imagination of what a life devoted to “making” might be like.[I think people want a path to follow. They want a checklist so they can say, “Alright cool, so if I get up at six and I write for this long and I watch this film and I do that…”]It’s weird, because I might have wanted that, too. I used to dance in New York. My Lower East Side days. Modern dance, or whatever. One thing I learned as a dancer was that people learn combinations different ways. Some people, if they get the right side, they can also get the left side right off the top of their head. Some people need to be taught both right and left. Some people count, some people never count, you know? I noticed then that, for me, it was really watching the whole person dancing, trying to take in the whole combination at once, that helped me learn it. I think I’m the same way as a reader—I like to take in the whole book, not getting too specific about how they did it, but ride the bigger example.I mean, at the end of the day, the answer to the question “How did you do it?” is right there, on the page. They’re showing you how they did it, by doing it. Maybe it’s different with art, when you don’t know if someone had all their sculptures knitted or welded by elves somewhere, but with writing, the answer to the question “How do you write a book like this?” is usually, “Like this” [points to book].
Maggie Nelson
There's no point in writing my kind of stuff, when they're printing that kind of stuff. So I gave up and started drinking.
Charles Bukowski
Trying to erase, hide, discredit, degrade, and suppress a writer's work, merit, voice, and influence―is unconstitutional. Censorship only exists to protect corruption.
Suzy Kassem
The amazing ones are, those that don't know it!
Anthony Liccione
A session of boasting won't attract any real friends.  It will set you up on a pedestal, however, making you a clearer target.
Richelle E. Goodrich
silence can sometimes save you. everything doesn’t warrant words.
Alexandra Elle
Had she any respect for him at all, his words would've affected her. But no value accompanies comments spewed from the mouth of a brute.
Richelle E. Goodrich
The eye of true equality often seems to have some degree of disrespect for the supposedly accomplished, privileged high and lofty to the supposedly accomplished, privileged high and lofty, although in reality, it's simply irrespectiveness.
Criss Jami
I am moved by the multitudes of your intelligence and sometimes, returning, I become the sea— in love with your speed, your heaviness and breath.
Frank O'Hara
When I look at a person, I see a person - not a rank, not a class, not a title.
Criss Jami
They say, timing is everything. But then they say, there is never a perfect time for anything.
Anthony Liccione
Westward on the high-hilled plainsWhere for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veinsFrets the changeless blood of man....There, when hueless is the westAnd the darkness hushes wide,Where the lad lies down to restStands the troubled dream beside.There, on thoughts that once were mine,Day looks down the eastern steep,And the youth at morning shineMakes the vow he will not keep.
A.E. Housman
It is only in the peach innocence of youth that life is at its crest on top of the wheel. And there being only life, the young cling to it, they fear death... And they should! ...For they are in life.
Roman Payne
As the soil of a garden is richer and as the harvest of the garden bears healthier nourishment from the decay of leaf matter and banana peel and egg shell and human hair and chicken bone and fireplace ash, so the accumulation of death in teh ground of a city implants therein energies and powers.
Tim Gilmore
Gazing around, looking up at the lofty pinnacles above, which seemed to pierce the sky, looking down upon the world,--it seemed the whole world, so limitless it stretched away at her feet,--feeling that infinite unspeakable sense of nearness to Heaven, remoteness from earth which comes only on mountain heights, she drew in a long breath of delight, and cried: "At last! at last, Alessandro! Here we are safe! This is freedom! This is joy!
Helen Hunt Jackson
Who said death is dead? He's fully alive, traveling around the world, throwing shadows and soaking in the sun. Visiting the young and old; placing bets and dicing regrets, for the worse or a better off place.
Anthony Liccione
Happiness does not completely depend on comforts or opulence. Even a pauper can be happier than a prince.
Ogwo David Emenike
The only depth where I can breathe, and don't need to fight for air, is in your love.
Anthony Liccione
Happiness has two hands: one with strength for lifting up heavy hearts and a gentle hand for tickling.
Richelle E. Goodrich
The Tejo runs down from SpainAnd the Tejo goes into the sea in Portugal.Everybody knows that.But not many people know the river of my villageAnd where it comes fromAnd where it’s going.And so, because it belongs to less people,The river of my village is freer and greater.
Alberto Caeiro
Madness is like an alternative residence. When sanity chases you out of home, take shelter in madness.
Munia Khan
The house, and all the objects in it, crackled with static electricity; undertows washed through it, the air was heavy with things that were known but not spoken. Like a hollow log, a drum, a church, it was amplified, so that conversations whispered in it sixty years ago can be half-heard today.
Margaret Atwood
Over the water of time I call to youIn a language I do not know.
Ellen S. Jaffe
Stars ink your fingerswith a lexicon of flameblazing rare knowledge.
Aberjhani
OMG! I DESIGNED THIS NEW SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORM! IT'S CALLED "POETRY" - YOU HAVE TO READ AMY KING'S POEMS TO GET AN INVITE ~
Amy King
No wonder I stopped keeping a journal. It was like keeping a record of my own stupidity. Why would I want to do that? Why would I want to remind myself what an asshole I was?
Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Personal problems appear big because we press our nose to the glass to observe them. This only serves to magnify our troubles. The problems of others we tend to view at a reasonable distance from the window, making their woes and bothers appear ordinary. Too bad we don't naturally take a few steps back before considering our own plight.
Richelle E. Goodrich
It is a great mystery to me how the problems of others seem like simple arithmetic while my own appear as complicated as a calculus equation.
Richelle E. Goodrich
There is a sky full of stars aplenty, and all you can babble about is a cold, little rock we call the moon. This is how it is with petty problems that exist too close to us.
Richelle E. Goodrich
For the Earth itself is a blossom, she says,on the star tree,pale with luminousocean leaves.
Rolf Jacobsen
I know that I too could try a story out, rebuild mine, make it live again several minutes before the full of the day, the sun, the city. But I haven't the strength, stupidly. I rise and carry on. One more time.
Danielle Collobert
A story is a map of the world. A gloriously colored and wonderful map, the sort one often sees framed and hanging on the wall in a study full of plush chairs and stained-glass lamps: painstakingly lettered, researched down to the last pebble and participle, drawn with dash and flair, with cloud-goddesses in the corners and giant squid squirming up out of the sea...[T]here are more maps in the world than anyone can count. Every person draws a map that shows themselves at the center.
Catherynne M. Valente