poetry

"Maybe love was meant to save us from ourselves."

"even in the loneliest momentsi have been therefor myself."

"Those ancients who in poetry presented the golden age, who sang its happy state,perhaps, in their Parnassus, dreamt this place. Here, mankind's root was innocent; and herewere every fruit and never-ending spring; these streams--the nectar of which poets sing."

"Though we tremble before uncertain futuresmay we meet illness, death and adversity with strengthmay we dance in the face of our fears."

"أي علم هذا الذي لم يستطع حتى الآن أن يضع أصوات من نحب في أقراص ، أو زجاجة دواء نتناولها سرًّا ، عندما نصاب بوعكة عاطفية بدون أن يدري صاحبها كم نحن نحتاجه"

"I could do with a bit more excess. From now on I'm going to be immoderate--and volatile--I shall enjoy loud music and lurid poetry. I shall be rampant."

"Poetry makes life what lights and music do the stage."

"I'll sleep forever and meet you in my dreams; it'll hurt less anyway. But the pain of losing you was worth the pleasure of having you, and I rest in bed knowing you'll know for the rest of your life what you are missing.-Karen Quan and Jarod Kintz"

"Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason."

"We didn't start the fireIt was always burningSince the world's been turningWe didn't start the fireNo we didn't light itBut we tried to fight it"

"You’re not a bad person, you’re just a little bit different and I’m a sucker for that."

"She wildly burned for the one she loved and he stood there watching, hoping he too would catch a blaze from the violence stirring in her heart."

"A FEATHER.A feather is trimmed, it is trimmed by the light and the bug and the post, it is trimmed by little leaning and by all sorts of mounted reserves and loud volumes. It is surely cohesive."

"There is darkness in light, there is pain in joy, and there are thorns on the rose."

"The Old Poets Of ChinaWherever I am, the world comes after me.It offers me its busyness. It does not believethat I do not want it. Now I understandwhy the old poets of China went so far and highinto the mountains, then crept into the pale mist."

"Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry."

"Last night my shadow exploded into hundreds of fluttering black birds, foreshadowing my love taking flight under the cover of camouflage."

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

"Is there some particular reason that you're here?"..."Not this again.""Not what again?"said Clary."Every time I annoy him, he retreats into his No Mundanes Allowed tree house."Simon pointed at Jace."

"I'll Die For Your Sins If You Live For mine."