poetry

"What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life."

"I touch you knowing we weren't born tomorrow,and somehow, each of us will help the other live,and somewhere, each of us must help the other die."

"I give you this to take with you:Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you canbegin again, with pure joy in the uprooting."

"That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg."

"Does something which exists on the edge have no true relevance to the stable center, or does it, by being on the edge, become a part of the edge and thus a part of the boundary, the definition which gives the whole its shape?"

"At two o'clock in the morning, if you open your window and listen,You will hear the feet of the Wind that is going to call the sun.And the trees in the Shadow rustle and the trees in the moonlight glisten,And though it is deep, dark night, you feel that the night is done."

"What if you slept?What if you slept And what if In your sleep You dreamed And what if In your dream You went to heaven And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower And what if When you awoke You had that flower in you hand Ah, what then?"

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

"Poetry is what gets lost in translation."

"So I find words I never thought to speakIn streets I never thought I should revisitWhen I left my body on a distant shore."

"Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted"

"For books are more than books, they are the lifeThe very heart and core of ages past,The reason why men lived and worked and died,The essence and quintessence of their lives."

"My writing has appeared in the New Yorker and The Atlantic Monthly, though whenever the newsstand guy catches me scribbling my poetry in them, he always comes along later and erases it."

"For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity."

"Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot."

"Wild Nights – Wild Nights!Were I with theeWild Nights should beOur luxury!Futile – the winds –To a heart in port –Done with the compass –Done with the chart!Rowing in Eden –Ah, the sea!Might I moor – Tonight –In thee!"

"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."

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

"It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road."

"I am ashamed of my century, but I have to smile."