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Category: poems
Quotes of Category: poems
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  1. E.L. Konigsburg _ Talk, Talk : A Children's Book

    For the novelist or poet, for the scientist or artist, the question is not do ideas come from, the question is how they come. The is the mystery. The how is fragile.
    book-quotescienceinspirationideas

  2. Bill Bryson _ Shakespeare: The World as

    It is often said that what sets Shakespeare apart is his ability to illuminate the workings of the soul and so on, and he does that superbly, goodness knows, but what really characterizes his work - every bit of it, in poems and plays and even dedications, throughout every portion of his career - is a positive and palpable appreciation of the transfixing power of language. remains an enchanting work after four hundred years, but few could argue that it cuts to the very heart of human behaviour. What it does is take, and give, a positive satisfaction in the joyous possibilities of verbal expression.
    book-quoteplaysshakespearepoems

  3. Maya Angelou

    When Great Trees FallWhen great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety.When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear.When great souls die,the air around us becomeslight, rare, sterile.We breathe, briefly.Our eyes, briefly,see witha hurtful clarity.Our memory, suddenly sharpened,examines,gnaws on kind wordsunsaid,promised walksnever taken.Great souls die andour reality, bound tothem, takes leave of us.Our souls,dependent upon theirnurture,now shrink, wizened.Our minds, formedand informed by theirradiance,fall away.We are not so much maddenedas reduced to the unutterable ignoranceof dark, coldcaves.And when great souls die,after a period peace blooms,slowly and alwaysirregularly. Spaces fillwith a kind ofsoothing electric vibration.Our senses, restored, neverto be the same, whisper to us.They existed. They existed
    lifesoulwritingtrees

  4. Nathan Reese Maher

    That's a stupid name! Whirly-gig is much better, I think. Who in their rightmind would point at this thing and say, 'I'm going to fly in my Model-A1'
    lifedeathghostsreflections

  5. Nathan Reese Maher

    She leaves my side and heads deeper int
    lifedeathghostsreflections

  6. Nathan Reese Maher

    History doesn't start with a tall buildin
    lifedeathghostsreflections

  7. Nathan Reese Maher

    There is a stillness between us, a period of restlessness that ties my stomac
    lifedeathghostsreflections

  8. Nathan Reese Maher

    Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of los
    lifedeathghostsreflections

  9. Norman Mailer _ Deaths For The Ladies

    Poems should be like pins which prick the skin of boredom and leave a glow equal in its pride to the gate of the sadist who stuck the pin and walked away
    book-quotewritingpridepoetry

  10. Samuel Beckett _ Collected Poems in English and

    que ferais-je sans ce monde que ferais-je sans ce monde sans visage sans questions où être ne dure qu'un instant où chaque instant verse dans le vide dans l'oubli d'avoir été sans cette onde où à la fin corps et ombre ensemble s'engloutissent que ferais-je sans ce silence gouffre des murmures haletant furieux vers le secours vers l'amour sans ce ciel qui s'élève sur la poussieère de ses lests que ferais-je je ferais comme hier comme aujourd'hui regardant par mon hublot si je ne suis pas seul à errer et à virer loin de toute vie dans un espace pantin sans voix parmi les voix enfermées avec moi
    book-quotefrenchpoems

  11. Sylvia Plath

    Ennui Tea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe, designing futures where nothing will occur: cross the gypsy's palm and yawning she will still predict no perils left to conquer. Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knight finds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheard of, while blasé princesses indict tilts at terror as downright absurd. The beast in Jamesian grove will never jump, compelling hero's dull career to crisis; and when insouciant angels play God's trump, while bored arena crowds for once look eager
    poems

  12. Sylvia Plath _ The Unabridged Journals of

    Writing, then, was a substitute for myself: if you don't love me, love my writing & love me for my writing. It is also much more: a way of ordering and reordering the chaos of experience.
    book-quotewritingwriterpoet
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