Quotes by Poets - Page 82

Verily, I say unto thee, many are the adepts that have looked upon the back parts of my father, and cried, "our eyes fail before the glory of thy countenance.
Aleister Crowley
Yet if you should forget me for a whileAnd afterwards remember, do not grieve:For if the darkness and corruption leaveA vestige of thoughts that I once had,Better by far you should forget and smileThan that you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti
I can't remember how to cry.
Sherman Alexie
One day, of course, no one will remember what I remember.
Donald Hall
No longer mourn for me when I am deadthan you shall hear the surly sullen bell give warning to the world that I am fled from this vile world with vilest worms to dwell: nay, if you read this line, remember not the hand that writ it, for I love you so, that I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,if thinking on me then should make you woe. O! if, I say, you look upon this verse when I perhaps compounded am with clay, do not so much as my poor name rehearse; but let your love even with my life decay; lest the wise world should look into your moan, and mock you with me after I am gone.
William Shakespeare
​Now I'm awake to the world. I was asleep before. That's how we let it happen. When they slaughtered Congress, we didn't wake up. When they blamed terrorists and suspended the constitution, we didn't wake up then, either. Nothing changes instantaneously. In a gradually heating bathtub, you'd be boiled to death before you knew it.
Margaret Atwood
Whatever you say or do, remember there's always someone watching you.
Gift Gugu Mona
Remember that it is quicker to destroy than build, so be careful of what you do even with your own tongue.
Gift Gugu Mona
When the mind is truly at peace, wherever you are is pleasant, Whether you live in a marketplace or in a mountain hermitage.
Baisao
Use time and space; grow slowly into your dreams, infinity will fill you with peace.
Kristian Goldmund Aumann
Please be my friend.
kevin mcpherson eckhoff
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann
A journal takes the place of a confidant, that is, of friend or wife; it becomes a substitute for production, a substitute for country and public. It is a grief-cheating device, a mode of escape and withdrawal; but, factotum as it is, though it takes the place of everything, properly speaking it represents nothing at all...
Henri-Frédéric Amiel
Hindoo wisdom long ago regarded the world as the dream of Brahma. Must we hold with Fichte that it is the individual dream of each individual ego? Every fool would then be a cosmogonic poet producing the firework of the universe under the dome of the infinite.
Henri-Frédéric Amiel
To come up with one great sentence, one needs to serve a life sentence.
Lera Auerbach
Death defines life. I'd rather stay undefined.
Lera Auerbach
We say sound things when we do not strive to say to say extraordinary ones.
Comte de Lautréamont
The business of wretches is wretched even in guarantee giving.
Homer
What I say will be a bit of boasting. The mad wine tells me to do it. Wine sets even a thoughtful man to singing, or sets him into softly laughing, sets him to dancing. Sometimes it tosses out a word that was better unspoken.
Homer
An aphorism ought to be entirely isolated from the surrounding world like a little work of art and complete in itself like a hedgehog.
Friedrich Schlegel
The shortest distance between two points is always under construction.
Rebecca McClanahan
The sweat of industry would dry and die, But for the end it works to.
William Shakespeare
Life starts from a white hole and ends in a black hole.
Santosh Kalwar
When you understand the power of praise, you can't waste precious time on cursing the enemy, but rather be steadfast in praising God for the guaranteed victories. After all there is no essence in fighting battles that are won already.
Gugu Mona
You are privileged if you know that there is God, the only creator of Heaven and Earth because not everyone gets to understand that whist still alive.
Gugu Mona
But first whom shall we sendIn search of this new world, whom shall we findSufficient? Who shall tempt, with wand'ring feetThe dark unbottomed infinite abyssAnd through the palpable obscure find outHis uncouth way, or spread his aery flightUpborne with indefatigable wingsOver the vast abrupt, ere he arriveThe happy isle?
John Milton
th' unconquerable will,/ And study of revenge, immortal hate,/ And courage never to submit or yield/ And what is else not to be overcome?
John Milton
But say I could repent and could obtaineBy Act of Grace my former state: how soonwould higth recal high thoughts; how soon unsaywhat feign'd submission swore: ease would recantvows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement growwhere wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:which would but lead me to a worse relapseand heavier fall: so should I purchase cleaveshort intermission bought with double smart:This knows my punisher; therefore as farfrom granting here, as I from begging peace:All hope excluded thus, behold in steadof us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for his this World. So farewell Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear,Farewel Remorse: all Good to me is lost.
John Milton
So spake the enemy of mankind, enclosedIn serpent, inmate bad! and toward EveAddressed his way: not with indented wave,Prone on the ground, as since; but on his rear,Circular base of rising folds, that toweredFold above fold, a surging maze! his headCrested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes;With burnished neck of verdant gold, erectAmidst his circling spires, that on the grassFloated redundant: pleasing was his shapeAnd lovely; never since of serpent-kindLovelier…
John Milton
Thou art my father, thou my author, thou my being gav'st me; whom should I obey but thee, whom follow?
John Milton
Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,Said then the lost Archangel, this the seatThat we must change for heav'n, this mournful gloomFor that celestial light? Be it so since he Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid What shall be right. Farthest from him is best Whom reason hath equaled force hath made supreme Above his equals. Farewell happy fieldsWhere joy forever dwells. Hail horrors HailInfernal world, and thou profoundest hellReceive thy new possessor, one who bringsA mind not to be changed by place or timeThe mind is its own place and in itselfCan make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.What matter where if I be still the sameAnd what I should be--All but less than heWhom thunder hath made greater. Here at leastWe shall be free. Th' Almighty hath not builtHere for his envy will not drive us hence.Here we may reign supreme, and in my choiceTo reign is worth ambition, though in hell.Better to reign in hell than serve in Heav'n.But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,Th'associates and co-partners of our lossLie thus astonished on th' oblivious pool.And call them not to share with us their partIn this unhappy mansion? Or, once more,With rallying arms, to try what may be yetRegained in heav'n or what more lost in hell!
John Milton
They changed their minds, Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell.
John Milton
I cling unto the burning Æthyr like Lucifer that fell through the Abyss, and by the fury of his flight kindled the air. And I am Belial, for having seen the Rose upon thy breast, I have denied God.And I am Satan! I am Satan! I am cast out upon a burning crag! And the sea boils about the desolation thereof. And already the vultures gather, and feast upon my flesh.
Aleister Crowley
So sweet is this song that no one could resist it. For in it is all the passionate ache for the moonlight, and the great hunger of the sea, and the terror of desolate places,—all things that lure men to the unattainable.Omari tessala marax,tessala dodi phornepaxamri radara poliaxarmana piliuamri radara piliu son;mari narya barbitonmadara anaphax sarpedonandala hriliuTranslation:I am the harlot that shaketh Death.This shaking giveth the Peace of Satiate Lust.Immortality jetteth from my skull,And music from my vulva.Immortality jetteth from my vulva also,For my Whoredom is a sweet scent like a seven-stringed instrument,Played unto God the Invisible, the all-ruler,That goeth along giving the shrill scream of orgasm.Every man that hath seen me forgetteth me never, and I appear oftentimes in the coals of the fire, and upon the smooth white skin of woman, and in the constancy of the waterfall, and in the emptiness of deserts and marshes, and upon great cliffs that look seaward; and in many strange places, where men seek me not. And many thousand times he beholdeth me not. And at last I smite myself into him as a vision smiteth into a stone, and whom I call must follow.
Aleister Crowley
Now there is naught but a vast black triangle having the apex downwards, and in the centre of the black triangle is the face of Typhon, the Lord of the Tempest, and he crieth aloud: Despair! Despair! For thou mayest deceive the Virgin, and thou mayest cajole the Mother; but what wilt thou say unto the ancient Whore that is throned in Eternity? For if she will not, there is neither force nor cunning, nor any wit, that may prevail upon her.Thou canst not woo her with love, for she is love. And she hath all, and hath no need of thee. And thou canst not woo her with gold, for all the Kings and captains of the earth, and all the gods of heaven, have showered their gold upon her. Thus hath she all, and hath no need of thee. And thou canst not woo her with knowledge, for knowledge is the thing that she hath spurned. She hath it all, and hath no need of thee. And thou canst not woo her with wit, for her Lord is Wit. She hath it all, and hath no need of thee. Despair! Despair!Nor canst thou cling to her knees and ask for pity; nor canst thou cling to her heart and ask for love; nor canst thou put thine arms about her neck, and ask for understanding; for thou hast all these, and they avail thee not. Despair! Despair! Then I took the Flaming Sword, and I let it loose against Typhon, so that his head was cloven asunder, and the black triangle dissolved in lightnings.
Aleister Crowley
FAUSTUS. [Stabbing his arm.] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee,I cut mine arm, and with my proper bloodAssure my soul to be great Lucifer's,Chief lord and regent of perpetual night!
Christopher Marlowe
Boys like it when you talk to them as if they were grown men—at least he always did when he was a kid—because they pretend that’s what they are anyhow, grown-up men, and they do it for their entire lives.
Russell Banks
It is not important what happens where; Where we fall or rise, What we conquer or lose, How big or small we are.
Dejan Stojanovic
I suppose you think you know what autumn looks like. Even if you live in the Los Angeles dreamed of by September’s schoolmates, you have surely seen postcards and photographs of the kind of autumn I mean. The trees go all red and blazing orange and gold, and wood fires burn at night so everything smells of crisp branches. The world rolls about delightedly in a heap of cider and candy and apples and pumpkins and cold stars rush by through wispy, ragged clouds, past a moon like a bony knee. You have, no doubt, experienced a Halloween or two.tAutumn in Fairyland is all that, of course. You would never feel cheated by the colors of a Fairyland Forest or the morbidity of a Fairyland moon. And the Halloween masks! Oh, how they glitter, how they curl, how their beaks and jaws hook and barb! But to wander through autumn in Fairyland is to look into a murky pool, seeing only a hazy reflection of the Autumn Provinces’ eternal fall. And human autumn is but a cast-off photograph of that reflecting pool, half burnt and drifting through the space between us and Fairyland.tAnd so I may tell you that the leaves began to turn red as September and her friends rushed through the suddenly cold air on their snorting, roaring high wheels, and you might believe me. But no red you have ever seen could touch the crimson bleed of the trees in that place. No oak gnarled and orange with October is half as bright as the boughs that bent over September’s head, dropping their hard, sweet acorns into her spinning spokes. But you must try as hard as you can. Squeeze your eyes closed, as tight as you can, and think of all your favorite autumns, crisp and perfect, all bound up together like a stack of cards. That is what it is like, the awful, wonderful brightness of Fairy colors. Try to smell the hard, pale wood sending up sharp, green smoke into the afternoon. To feel to mellow, golden sun on your skin, more gentle and cozier and more golden than even the light of your favorite reading nook at the close of the day.
Catherynne M. Valente
The heat of autumn is different from the heat of summer. One ripens apples, the other turns them to c
Jane Hirshfield
It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.
Sylvia Plath
The mellow autumn came, and with it cameThe promised party, to enjoy its sweets.The corn is cut, the manor full of game;The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beatsIn russet jacket;—lynx-like is his aim;Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats.Ah, nutbrown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants!And ah, ye poachers!—'Tis no sport for peasants.
George Gordon Byron
Methinks I see the sunset light flooding the river valley, the western hills stretching to the horizon, overhung with trees gorgeous and glowing with the tints of autumn -- a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
John Greenleaf Whittier
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding
Robert Burns
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
William Allingham
You will fall with me as a stone in the grave
Pablo Neruda
And every year there is a brief, startling moment When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air: It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies; It is the changing light of fall falling on us.
Edward Hirsch
In September countless sand and house-martins jazz above the river, taking insects from the surface, from the air, thousands of birds kissing the river farewell. They creak, a sound like the air rubbing against itself. Summer is everything they know; they're preparing themselves, sensing in the shortening days a door they must dash through before it shuts.
Kathleen Jamie
The river this November afternoonRests in an equipoise of sun and cloud:A glooming light, a gleaming darkness shroudIts passage. All seems tranquil, all in tune.
Cecil Day-Lewis
Wind warns November’s done with. The blown leaves make bat-shapes, Web-winged and furious.
Sylvia Plath
Let whoever wants to, relax in the south,And bask in the garden of paradise.Here is the essence of north—and it's autumnI've chosen as this year's friend.
Anna Akhmatova
…Henry is tired of winter,& haircuts, & a squeamish comfy ruin-prone proud national mind, & Spring (in the city so called)Henry likes Fall.Hé would be prepared to líve in a world of Fállfor ever, impenitent Henry.But the snows and summers grieve and dream;These fierce & airy occupations, and love,raved away so many of Henry’s yearsit is a wonder that, with in each handone of his own mad books and all,ancient fires for eyes, his head full& his heart full, he's making ready to move on.
John Berryman
AUTUMNAL Pale amber sunlight falls across The reddening October trees, That hardly sway before a breeze As soft as summer: summer's loss Seems little, dear! on days like these. Let misty autumn be our part! The twilight of the year is sweet: Where shadow and the darkness meet Our love, a twilight of the heart Eludes a little time's deceit. Are we not better and at home In dreamful Autumn, we who deem No harvest joy is worth a dream? A little while and night shall come, A little while, then, let us dream. Beyond the pearled horizons lie Winter and night: awaiting these We garner this poor hour of ease, Until love turn from us and die Beneath the drear November trees.
Ernest Dowson
The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orc
Walt Whitman
The goldenrod is yellow,The corn is turning brown...The trees in apple orchardsWith fruit are bending down.
Helen Hunt Jackson
At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Autumn...the year's last, loveliest s
John Howard Bryant
Autumn is as joyful and sweet as an untimely end.
Rémy de Gourmont
The main misfortune, the root of all the evil to come, was the loss of confidence in the value of one’s own opinion. People imagined that it was out of date to follow their own moral sense, that they must all sing in chorus, and live by other people’s notions, notions that were being crammed down everybody’s throat.
Boris Pasternak