poetry

"A lot we have in our head,But things of heart are not yet dead,They have done none, but just fled,Out of us, Forgotten, just been bled.."

"And in despair I bowed my head;"There is no peace on earth,"I said;"For hate is strong,And mocks the songOf peace on earth, good-will to men!"Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!The Wrong shall fail,the Right prevail,With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

"We shall not cease from explorationAnd the end of all our exploringWill be to arrive where we startedAnd know the place for the first time."

"So the freshness lives onin a lemon,in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,the proportions, arcane and acerb."

"Exercises are like prose, whereas yoga is the poetry of movements. Once you understand the grammar of yoga; you can write your poetry of movements."

"Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen."

"Each star is a mirror reflecting the truth inside you."

"It is at the edge of the petal that love waits"

"Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul."

"The bridge will only take you halfway there, to those mysterious lands you long to see. Through gypsy camps and swirling Arab fair, and moonlit woods where unicorns run free. So come and walk awhile with me and share the twisting trails and wondrous worlds I've known. But this bridge will only take you halfway there. The last few steps you have to take alone."

"Waking At NightThe blue river is grey at morningand evening. There is twilightat dawn and dusk. I lie in the darkwondering if this quiet in me nowis a beginning or an end."

"Those who are willing to be vulnerable move among mysteries."

"I live not in dreams but in contemplation of a reality that is perhaps the future."

"The wind may be invisible, but it’s colored by memories of you, as you gently blew into my life, adding motion and emotion to my still-beating heart."

"I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume,For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."

"I am the red wheelbarrow of communism. William Carlos Williams wrote a poem about me."

"I walked a mile with Pleasure;She chatted all the way;But left me none the wiserFor all she had to say.I walked a mile with Sorrow;And ne’er a word said she;But, oh! The things I learned from her,When Sorrow walked with me."

"Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits."

"We are all instruments pulling the bows across our own lungs. Windmills, still startling in every storm. Have you ever seen a newborn blinking at the light? I wanna do that every day. I wanna know what the kite called itself when it got away, when it escaped into the night..."

"My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world and exiles me from it."