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"553 Poem & Poetry Quotes

The laws of God, the laws of man he may keep that will and can; not I: let God and man decree laws for themselves and not for me.

God He Keep Laws
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Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
Ale Drink Lad Shoulder
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That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.

Again Cannot Come Content
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The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.

Ale Angry Bear Drink
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Who made the world I cannot tell; 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.

Am Bleed Cannot Deed
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I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.

Could Define More Poetry
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Women make us poets, children make us philosophers.

Women Make Poets Children
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The poem is in my hands, and can run stories through her hands.

Poem Hands Run Stories
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One day, I will be a poet. Water will depend on my visions.

One-day Poet Depend Water
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For me it is essential, essential for the poet to have a new toast, new songs.

Essential Poet Have Toast
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Please take your time. I want you to kill me slowly so I can write my last poem to my wife's heart. They laughed, and took from me only the words dedicated to my wife's heart.

Time Poem Kill Slowly
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In poetry, only emotion endures.

Poetry Emotion Endures
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A ratio of failures is built into the process of writing. The wastebasket has evolved for a reason.

Built Evolved Failures Process
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Myths can't be translated as they did in their ancient soil. We can only find our own meaning in our own time.

Ancient Did Find Meaning
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I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.
Gladdest Under Sun Touch
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No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.

One Night Dark Face
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Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Gently Beautiful Kind Intelligent
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Cruel of heart, lay down my song. Your reading eyes have done me wrong. Not for you was the pen bitten, And the mind wrung, and the song written.

Cruel Heart Song Reading-eyes
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To a Young Poet Time cannot break the bird's wing from the bird. Bird and wing together Go down, one feather. No thing that ever flew, Not the lark, not you, Can die as others do.

Young Poet Bird Wing
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Oh, friend, forget not, when you fain would note In me a beauty that was never mine, How first you knew me in a book I wrote, How first you loved me for a written line....

Friend Forget Fain Beauty
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Ah, I could lay me down in this long grass And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind Blow over me
Lay Me Long-grass Eyes
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She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.

Learned Hands Fairy-tale Valentine
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I saw and heard, and knew at last The How and Why of all things, past, and present, and forevermore.

Saw Heard Past Present
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But you were something more than young and sweet And fair, - and the long year remembers you.

You Young Sweet Fair
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I would I were alive again to kiss the fingers of the rain.

Fingers Alive Rain
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But the roaring of the fire, And the warmth of fur, And the boiling of the kettle Were beautiful to her!

Roaring Fire Warmth Boiling
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Searching my heart for its true sorrow, This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of words and people, Sick of the city, wanting the sea.

Searching Heart Sorrow Words
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The breath of dying lilies haunted the twilight air.
Breath Dying-lilies Haunted Twilight
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About the trees my arms I wound; Like one going mad I hugged the ground; I raised my quivering arms on high; I laughed and laughed into the sky.

Trees Hugged Ground Quivering
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Into the darkness they go, the wise & the lovely
Darkness Do Wise Lovely
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And you as well must die, beloved dust, And all your beauty stand you in no stead; This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head, This body of flame and steel, before the gust.

Die Beloved Dust Beauty
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Along my body, waking while I sleep, Sharp to the kiss, cold to the hand as snow, The scar of this encounter like a sword

Body Sleep Kiss Snow
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The only sensible ends of literature are, first, the pleasurable toil of writing; second, the gratification of one's family and friends; and lastly, the solid cash.

Cash Ends Family First
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Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones.
Lights Guide Home Ignite
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If the grape is made of wine, then perhaps we are the words that tell who we are
Grape Wine Words Tell
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When you write ,it's like braiding your hair. Taking a handful of coarse unruly strands and attempting to bring then unity.

Write Handful Unruly Strands
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So much had fallen into the sea. Hats fell in to the sea. Hearts fell into the sea. So much had fallen into the sea

Fallen Sea Hearts
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Here, though, there is nothing. Nothing at all. The sky seems empty even when I am looking at the moon and stars.

Here Sky Moon Stars
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Two mountains can never meet but perhaps you and I can meet again. I am coming to your waterfall

Mountains Meet Waterfall
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Our fatigue limited our desire to talk. Besides, each person's story did nothing except bring you closer to your own pain.

Fatigue Desire Story Closer
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I cannot find my way: there is no star In all the shrouded heavens anywhere

Star Shrouded Heavens
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The wind languished. The floral curtain ceased flapping. The moonlight streamed through, lighting up her face. It was a young, animated face. At that moment, it touched a string, a peg, deep inside him.

Deep String Touched Moment
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I do not wish to produce prose that draws attention to itself, rather than the world it describes.
Attention Draws Itself Produce
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Earth's crammed with heaven... But only he who sees, takes off his shoes.
Earth's crammed Heaven Shoes
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My sun sets to rise again.
My sun set Rise again
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The little cares that fretted me, I lost them yesterday Among the fields above the sea, Among the winds at play.

Cares Fretted me Fields Sea
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My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument.

My patience Dreadful Monument
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Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.

Measure Work Labor
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Will that light come again, As now these tears come...falling hot and real!

Light Tears come Failing Hot
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Yes, I answered you last night; No, this morning, sir, I say: Colors seen by candle-light Will not look the same by day

Answer Last night Colors Candle light
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