Instead, he approached the author of 'Candide', who was closer to another side of him - the cool and richly intellectual side. At twenty-nine, life no longer held any brightness for him, but Voltaire supplied him with man-made wings. Spreading these man-made wings, he soared with ease into the sky. The higher he flew, the farther below him sank the joys and sorrows of a life bathed in the light of intellect. Dropping ironies and smiles upon the shabby towns below, he climbed through the open sky, straight for the sun - as if he had forgotten about that ancient Greek who plunged to his death in the ocean when his man-made wings were singed by the sun.
What is it to be afraid of your wings? What is it to be forgotten? Each day we are forgotten by ourselves through ourselves, For we do not believe, in who we are. Browse By Tag. Love Quotes Welcome back. Jonathan Swift Joanne Arnott b. Wayde Compton b. Harryette Mullen b. Let the Ponies Out oh papa, to have you drift up, some part of you drift up through water through fresh water into the teal plate of sky soaking foothills, papa, to have your breath leave, escape you, escape the weight of bone, muscle and organ, escape you, to rise up, to loft, till you are all breath filling the room, rising, escaping the white Marilyn Dumont b.
I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned, Since from myself another self I turned. My care is like my shadow in the sun, Richard Cory Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim. And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, Edwin Arlington Robinson Alden Nowlan The sentence past is most irrevocable, A common thing, yet oh inevitable.
Anne Bradstreet Hotel Centrale, Rotterdam I am awake between stiff sheets tonight in room thirty four, listening to the heat tick through the radiator, seeing a television pour out news of the war the war in the air, the war in the Gulf. The walls vibrate with video light.
This is no room for sleep anymore. There is no room for Daniel David Moses b. The Charge of the Light Brigade I. Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Charge for the guns! Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Alfred, Lord Tennyson We posed with our wide grins and best-friends-forever certainty. Souvankham Thammavongsa b. Connie Fife b. Aphra Behn Earle Birney Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public Good Day Villanelle You ran naked out the door. The neighbours laughed; I chased you down.
I hardly see you anymore. Did I tell you when you were little how you ran naked out the door? You got halfway down the street before I caught you in my arms. Damian Rogers b. Christian severity etched in the lines he draws from his mouth. Clearly a noble man who believes in work and mission. See how he rises from Armand Garnet Ruffo. Norman Dubie b. Ralph Waldo Emerson Matthew Rohrer b. Should Lanterns Shine Should lanterns shine, the holy face, Caught in an octagon of unaccustomed light, Would wither up, and any boy of love Look twice before he fell from grace. The features in their private dark Are formed of flesh, but let the false day come And from her lips the added pigments fall, The mummy cloths expose an ancient breast.
Dylan Thomas — Rosanna Deerchild. Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow, Though thou be black as night And she made all of light, Yet follow thy fair sun unhappy shadow. Thomas Campion En Route The train has stopped for no apparent reason In the wilds; A frozen lake is level and fretted over With rippled wind lines; The sun is burning in the South; the season Is winter trembling at a touch of spring. A little hill with birches and a ring Of cedars — all so still, so pure with snow — It seems a tiny landscape in Duncan Campbell Scott Porphyria's Lover The rain set early in to-night, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its worst to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria: straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled Shane Book. I am here to slay the dragon in the ready-made Susan Howe b. Sun Bear yesterday at the Oakland zoo I was walking alone for a moment past the enclosure holding the sun bear also known as beruang madu it looked at me without interest it has powerful jaws and truly loves honey it sleeps in a high hammock its claws look made out of wood and if it dreams at all it is of Malaysia Matthew Zapruder b.
Al Purdy The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as A diamond ring. It ate promises and rants. Sue Goyette b. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have Edgar Allan Poe Emily Dickinson Changming Yuan b.
Walter De La Mare I wanna live, son. But which son are you? What still Canisia Lubrin b. They Flee From Me They flee from me that sometime did me seek With naked foot, stalking in my chamber. I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek, That now are wild and do not remember That sometime they put themself in danger To take bread at my hand; and now they range, Busily seeking with a continual change.
Thanked be fortune it Thomas Wyatt II I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. III The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds. It was a small part of Wallace Stevens If ever man were loved by wife, then thee. If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me, ye women, if you can. I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold, Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee give recompense Trillium the animal in me is constant. Gwen Benaway The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone? K was supposed to come with the key, I was K was supposed to come with the key, I was to wait outside the gate. I arrived on time, the time we had agreed on and waited, as agreed, outside the gate. I waited a long time, waited and waited, waited a very long time.
I stood next to the security guard from Securitas, who also stood outside the gate. I waited, the security guard Ulrikka Gernes b. I knew the language Dorothy Parker Poetry I too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle. Newfoundland Sealing Disaster Sent to the ice after white coats, rough outfit slung on coiled rope belts, they stooped to the slaughter: gaffed pups, slit them free of their spotless pelts. The storm Michael Crummey b. Wild Nights — Wild Nights!
Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Rowing in Eden — Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor — Tonight — In Thee! To an Athlete Dying Young The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. Today, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad Housman Sandra Ridley b.
Flaxman We deemed the secret lost, the spirit gone, Which spake in Greek simplicity of thought, And in the forms of gods and heroes wrought Eternal beauty from the sculptured stone, — A higher charm than modern culture won With all the wealth of metaphysic lore, Gifted to analyze, dissect, explore. A many-colored light flows from one sun Margaret Fuller Ode on Solitude Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, Alexander Pope Claire Harris b.
Annabel Lee It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, Interesting People of Newfoundland Newfoundland is, or was, full of interesting people. Like Larry, who would make a fool of himself on street corners for a nickel.
There was the Russian who called himself the Grand Duke, and who was said to be a real duke from somewhere, John Ashbery - Two Hours on the Train During two hours on the train I rerun the film of my life Two minutes per year on average Half an hour for childhood Another half-hour for prison Love, books, wandering take up the rest the hand of my companion gradually melts into mine and her head on my shoulder is as light as a dove When we Insomnia If I were to sleep, it would be on an iron bed, bolted to the floor in a bomb-proof concrete room with twelve locks on the door.
Graduation Poems: They'll Always Remember You Cared
Kate Hall b. Invitation to Love Come when the nights are bright with stars Or when the moon is mellow; Come when the sun his golden bars Drops on the hay-field yellow.
You are sweet, O Love, dear Love, Paul Laurence Dunbar Klein Life in a Love Escape me? Never — Beloved! While I am I, and you are you, So long as the world contains us both, Me the loving and you the loth, While the one eludes, must the other pursue. My life is a fault at last, I fear: It seems too much like a fate, indeed! Though I do my best I But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is on the night, The scent of apples: I am drowsing off. I cannot Liz Howard b.
Rita Wong b. England in An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying King; Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow Through public scorn, — mud from a muddy spring; Rulers who neither see nor feel nor know, But leechlike to their fainting country cling Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow.
Percy Bysshe Shelley Reluctance Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view And looked at the world, and descended; I have come by the highway home, And lo, it is ended. The leaves are all dead on the ground, Save Pale Blue Cover In the middle of the night Matt would fly to Vancouver so he could take a walk on the sea wall the next day, then go home.
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No one can imagine Matt teaching religion at George Bowering b. Cowboy Story The books sit on the shelf, a row of coma patients in a ward, a series of selves no longer able to learn and trapped at the point of injury: the last page. At the donor clinic I offer my arm to the spigot of the needle and think, as I see the bag fill with blood, there goes some of me. George Murray b. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove.
Paul Muldoon b. Under the Answering Sky I can manage being alone, can pace out convivial hope across my managing ground. Someone might call, later. I would catch, not my echo, but their guarantee that this Denise Riley b. Hip-Hop Ghazal Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips, decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips. As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak, inhaling bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips.
Patricia Smith b. The Bow river churns and smokes as the city rumbles, economy chokes and bundled homeless build cardboard homes in the snow. Yes, Walt, this is the new world, and how often has your huge, burled form lengthened beside me as we strode through parking lots, the filth and ice of streets? Great seer, I listen for your relentless Rosemary Griebel.
Crossing the Bar Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Say this Was something reported as news On a day when your life came to no good. The new homeless drifting from row houses Along streets tamped down by the heedless And paved in afterthought. Out of hollows James Langer b. Sometimes a Voice 1 Sometimes a voice — have you heard this?
Sometimes, even in the midst of making sense or Don McKay b. The Tyger Tyger! In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, John Donne Jerome Rothenberg b. Groping in the thicket, about to pinch the dangling berry, my fingerpads close on air. Word, please send over this black stretch of ocean your singular flare, Elise Partridge — Not Waving But Drowning Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking Stevie Smith Here I am, a labyrinth, and I am a mess. I am located at the corner of Waterway and Bluff. I need your help. You will find me to the left of the graveyard, where the Wright Insomnia Thin are the night-skirts left behind By daybreak hours that onward creep, And thin, alas! Dante Gabriel Rossetti When Winter Comes Rain at Muchalat, rain at Sooke, And rain, they say, from Yale to Skeena, And the skid-roads blind, and never a look Of the Coast Range blue over Malaspina, And west winds keener Than jack-knife blades, And rocks grown greener With the long drip-drip from the cedar shades On the drenched deep soil where the footsteps Not Horses What I adore is not horses, with their modern domestic life span of 25 years.
Natalie Shapero b. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Common Magic Your best friend falls in love and her brain turns to water. You stop for lunch in a Bronwen Wallace Robert Burns Rudyard Kipling A Dream Within a Dream Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Richard Harrison Sonnets from the Portuguese How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee freely, as men strive for right; I love thee purely, as they We romped until the pans Slid Theodore Roethke Chimwemwe Undi Robert W.
Service The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls. Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft, white If Stone Dreams We cannot know this statue, this satyr with his head propped on a wineskin; we cannot know if he dreams. For what has been lost we are to blame, for what has been kept to be thrown away.
Mary di Michele b. O Pussy, my love, Edward Lear Song Go, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung Edmund Waller To be relationship advice for L. To be a more comfortable hospital bed for my mother. To be, in my spare time, America for my uncle, who wants to be China Chen Chen b. Living, I had no claim On your great hours.
Now the thin candle-flame, The closing flowers, Wed summer with my name, — And these are But I cannot leave them Adebe D. Robert Creeley Robert Herrick The Gods and Fortune take their part Who like young monarchs fight; And boldly dare invade that heart John Dryden George Herbert John Clare These Poems, She Said These poems, these poems, these poems, she said, are poems with no love in them.
These are the poems Robert Bringhurst b. Sonoma He totaled his blue truck — slowly spun out on an icy bridge, rammed it into a guard rail. Climbed out unbruised. Coal Creek. Middle of nowhere. A passing couple brought him home. Then three years with letters from the Motor Vehicle Department before he relinquished his license. Jane Munro b.
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the Rocks, Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow Rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing Madrigals.
And I Christopher Marlowe A Virginal No, no! Go from me. I have left her lately. Oh, I have picked up magic in her nearness And so their bland-blank faces turn Margaret Avison That bitter hiding. My daughter picks up new habits from friends. Layli Long Soldier. Poor Speaker I understand you. I get it. You want me to understand.
Got it. Sara Peters b. Alootook Ipellie — My Brother at 3 A. He sat cross-legged, weeping on the steps when Mom unlocked and opened the front door. O God, he said. O God. He wants to kill me, Mom. When Mom unlocked and opened the front door at 3 a. He wants to kill me, he Natalie Diaz. Preludes I The winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps The grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet And newspapers from vacant lots; The showers beat On broken blinds and chimney-pots, And at the Ted Berrigan I Have Not Lingered in European Monasteries I have not lingered in European monasteries and discovered among the tall grasses tombs of knights who fell as beautifully as their ballads tell; I have not parted the grasses or purposefully left them thatched Leonard Cohen La Figlia che Piange O quam te memorem virgo Stand on the highest pavement of the stair — Lean on a garden urn — Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair — Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise — Fling them to the ground and turn With a fugitive resentment in your eyes: But weave, weave the Experience The lords of life, the lords of life, — I saw them pass, In their own guise, Like and unlike, Portly and grim, — Use and Surprise, Surface and Dream, Succession swift and spectral Wrong, Temperament without a tongue, And the inventor of the game Omnipresent without name; — Some to see, some to Fred Wah b.
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Sherman Alexie b. From me he Heat From plains that reel to southward, dim, The road runs by me white and bare; Up the steep hill it seems to swim Beyond, and melt into the glare. Upward half-way, or it may be Nearer the summit, slowly steals A hay-cart, moving dustily With idly Archibald Lampman Lose something every day.
Accept the fluster of Elizabeth Bishop Ben Jonson Susan Holbrook b. Lofty mansions, warm and spacious; Courtiers cringing and voracious; Misers scarce the wretched heeding; Gallant soldiers fighting, bleeding. Wives who Mary Robinson Now here is your father inside your lungs. Ocean Vuong b. Susie Asado Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea.
Susie Asado. Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea. Susie Asado which is a told tray sure. A lean on the shoe this means Gertrude Stein Life has loveliness to sell, Music like a curve of gold, Sara Teasdale Boy Remembers in the Field What if the sun comes out And the new furrows do not look smeared? This is April, and the sumach candles Have guttered long ago. The crows in the twisted apple limbs Are as moveless and dark. Drops on the wires, cold cheeks, The mist, the long snorts, silence… The horses will steam when Raymond Knister Time drives the flocks from field to fold, When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb, The rest complains of cares Sir Walter Raleigh The Tree Fair tree!
When thou to birds dost shelter give, Thou music dost from them receive; If travellers beneath thee stay Till storms have worn themselves away, That time in praising thee they spend Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run, And do run still, though still I do deplore? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more. Wilt thou Hoa Nguyen b. How One Winter Came in the Lake Region For weeks and weeks the autumn world stood still, Clothed in the shadow of a smoky haze; The fields were dead, the wind had lost its will, And all the lands were hushed by wood and hill, In those grey, withered days.
Behind a mist the blear sun rose and set, At night the Wilfred Campbell I say drop a mouse into a Billy Collins b. The Emperor of Ice-Cream Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds. Let be be finale of seem. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream. Take from the And yet I know that not for us, By any ecstasy of dream, He lingers to keep luminous Bliss Carman The Rights of Woman Yes, injured Woman! Go forth arrayed in panoply divine; That angel pureness which admits no stain; Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign, And Anna Laetitia Barbauld — We Wear the Mask We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, — This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while The Second Coming Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate Kaveh Akbar b.
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Echolalia Once one gets what one wants one no longer wants it. One no longer wants what? One no longer wants what one wanted. Ian Williams b. The trees, their bark, their leaves, even the dead ones, are more vibrant wet. Each moment is like this — before Claudia Rankine b. Dream Jobs Random Link Clicker.
310 Inspiring Music Quotes That Will Fuel Your Soul
Royal Bath Taker. Receiver of Foot Rubs and Praise. Ingenue Emeritus. Good Samaritan Emeritus. Undersecretary of Trivial Pursuits. Chief Executive Napper. Chancellor of the Exchequer of the United Kingdom of Spring. Procurer of Unnecessary Hats. Empress of Ice Cream. Suzanne Buffam b. And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings The New Experience I was ready for a new experience. All the old ones had burned out. They lay in little ashy heaps along the roadside And blew in drifts across the fairgrounds and fields. Through broken walls and gray The winds blow bleak and shrill; They are all gone away. Nor is there one today To speak them good or ill Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless William Wordsworth Plenty The sky, lit up like a question or an applause meter, is beautiful like everything else today: the leaves in the gutters, salt stains on shoes, the girl at the IGA who looks just like Kevin Connolly b.
From The Titanic: The Iceberg Calved from a glacier near Godhaven coast, It left the fiord for the sea — a host Of white flotillas gathering in its wake, And joined by fragments from a Behring floe Had circumnavigated it to make Pratt Charles Lamb The limpness of a bird's legs in flight. The place, the question, the question. The place, the interest, the question. There is the place. There is what you do in the place.
There is your belief. There is the faith in a knowing. There is your instruction by the gods. There is your instruction as you are told. There is your relief Aisha Sasha John b. When I consider how my light is spent When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; John Milton So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin On his face.
If he worried he hid it. He started to sing as he tackled the thing Edgar Albert Guest Marie Annharte Baker b. Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm b. That fire known as Fog. The onion is the way fog has of entering the earth. Into the soil. Through the green leaves of the onion The pools low lying, dank with moss and mould, Glint through their mildews like large cups of gold.