Best Poetry Quotes | Short & Famous Sayings Page 37

“Different languages, the same thoughts; servant to thoughts and their masters.”

Philosophy Poetry Quotes Literature Masters Thoughts Servant Poetry Quotes Poets Dejan Stojanovic Literature Quotes Languages The Sun Watches The Sun Servants

Book:The Sun Watches the Sun

Source: The Sun Watches the Sun

“It’s the poet we love in Caeiro, not the philosopher. What we really get from these poems is a childlike sense of life, with all the direct materiality of the child’s mind, and all the vital spirituality of hope and increase that exist in the body and soul of nescient childhood. Caeiro’s work is a dawn that wakes us up and quickens us; a more that material, more than anti-spiritual dawn. It’s an abstract effect, pure vacuum, nothingness.”

“... he slipped in and out of himself, testing which disguise to use. He knew it had to be his most clever. The Sisters were too astute for his usual chicanery. He flapped his wings, then soared. The shape of an eagle, useful for fast travel across worlds, but only temporary. Not convincing enough to hide his true identity. ... He pushed out of the eagle skin and leaped away from the horde of birds, springing into the sky. Into nothingness. Instead of transforming into another creature, he hovered in between. Dangling on the mouth of wind. He rumbled with pleasure, at his own cleverness, born out of accident and indecision: he had become pure air. Without effort, he whooshed past the threshold into the cave, into the bark of the Great Tree, winding cleverly under and over and through a maze of roots and rough stone, past every trick and trap the Sisters had set. He delighted at the speed at which he travelled, catching himself just in time, before his enthusiasm revealed the disguise. Slowing impulse to a mere draft, sucking into himself, he reached the very heart of the Norns’ lair. The Great Hall of Time.”

Poetry Imagination Transformation Magical Realism Norse Mythology Pagan Gods Norns Shapeshifting

Book:Becoming Leidah

Source: Becoming Leidah

“If I nurture my imagination, gardens will bloom wreathed with double rainbows, suffused in All-flower-perfume.”

Poetry Imagination Imagination Quotes Rainbow Quotes Garden Quotes Imagination Writing Nurture Your Dream Nurture The Soul

Book:If You Shut Your Eyes, You'll hear Some Cosmic Verse

Source: If You Shut Your Eyes, You'll hear Some Cosmic Verse

“I push my eye farther into the crack, smushing my cheek. The door rattles. Her arm freezes. The needle stops. Instantly, her shadow fills the room, a mountain on the wall. “Leidah?” I hold my breath. No hiding in the wood-box this time. Before I even have time to pull my eye away, the door opens. My mother's face, like the moon in the dark hallway. She squints and takes a step toward me. “Lei-lee?” I want to tell her I’ve had a nightmare about the Sisters, that I can’t sleep with all this whispering and worrying from her—and what are you sewing in the dark, Mamma? I try to move my lips, but I have no mouth. My tongue is gone; my nose is gone. I don’t have a face anymore. It has happened again. I am lying on my back, flatter than bread. My mother’s bare feet slap against my skin, across my belly, my chest. She digs her heel in, at my throat that isn’t there. I can see her head turning toward her bedroom. Snores crawl under the closed door. The door to my room is open, but she can’t see my bed from where she stands, can’t see that my bed is empty. She nods to herself: everything as it should be. Her foot grinds into my chin. The door to the sewing room closes behind her. I struggle to sit up. I wiggle my hips and jiggle my legs. It is no use. I am stuck, pressed flat into the grain of wood under me. But it’s not under me. It is me. I have become the floor. I know it’s true, even as I tell myself I am dreaming, that I am still in bed under the covers. My blood whirls inside the wood knots, spinning and rushing, sucking me down and down. The nicks of boot prints stomp and kick at my bones, like a bruise. I feel the clunk of one board to the next, like bumps of a wheel over stone. And then I am all of it, every knot, grain, and sliver, running down the hall, whooshing like a river, ever so fast, over the edge and down a waterfall, rushing from room to room. I pour myself under and over and through, feeling objects brush against me as I pass by. Bookshelves, bedposts, Pappa’s slippers, a fallen dressing gown, the stubby ends of an old chair. A mouse hiding inside a hole in the wall. Mor’s needle bobbing up and down. How is this possible? I am so wide, I can see both Mor and Far at the same time, even though they are in different rooms, one wide awake, the other fast asleep. I feel my father’s breath easily, sinking through the bed into me, while Mor’s breath fights against me, against the floor. In and out, each breath swimming away, away, at the speed of her needle, up up up in out in out outoutout—let me out, get me out, I want out. That’s what Mamma is thinking, and I hear it, loud and clear. I strain my ears against the wood to get back into my own body. Nothing happens. I try again, but this time push hard with my arms that aren’t there. Nothing at all. I stop and sink, letting go, giving myself into the floor. Seven, soon to be eight… it’s time, time’s up, time to go. The needle is singing, as sure as stitches on a seam. I am inside the thread, inside her head. Mamma is ticking—onetwothreefourfivesix— Seven. Seven what? And why is it time to go? Don’t leave me, Mamma. I beg her feet, her knees, her hips, her chest, her heart, my begging spreading like a big squid into the very skin of her. It’s then that I feel it. Something is happening to Mamma. Something neither Pappa nor I have noticed. She is becoming dust. She is drier than the wood I have become. - Becoming Leidah Quoted by copying text from the epub version using BlueFire e-reader.”

Poetry Imagination Magic Magical Realism Outcast Norse Wicca Selkie Ancestral Shapeshift

Book:Becoming Leidah

Source: Becoming Leidah

“in her eyes, we saw an endless world to unfold: a fiction author.”

Poetry Imagination Haiku Fiction Writing Author Life

Book:Tiny Poems From the Pandemic: Poetry collection of all the moments in between

Source: Tiny Poems From the Pandemic: Poetry collection of all the moments in between

“I found a room, both quiet and slow, a room where the walls are thick. Where pixie dust is kept in jars, and paper rockets soar to Mars, and battles leave no lasting scars as clocks forget to tick. I guard this room, both small and bare, this room in which stories live. Where Peter Pan and Alice play, and Sinbad sails at dawn of day, and wolves cry 'boy' to get their way when ogres won’t forgive. With you I’ll share my hiding place, this room under cloak and spell. We’ll snuggle up inside a nook, and read a venturous story book, that makes us question in a look what nonsense fairies tell. In fictive plots and fabled ends, Our happy-e’er-afters dwell!”

Poetry Reading Imagination Storytelling Richelle Goodrich Poems Richelle E Goodrich Love Of Reading Storybooks

Book:A Heart Made of Tissue Paper

Source: A Heart Made of Tissue Paper

“There would still remain the never-resting mind, So that one would want to escape, come back To what had been so long composed. The imperfect is our paradise. Note that, in this bitterness, delight, Since the imperfect is so hot in us, Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds.”

Reality Poetry Imagination Perception Perfection Thought Wallace Stevens

Book:The Collected Poems

Source: The Collected Poems

“More strange than true. I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold: That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt. The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination That if it would but apprehend some joy It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!”

Love Dream Joy Poetry Literature Fear Imagination Lunatic

Book:A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Source: A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“When the ideas or forms we need are banished, we seek their residues wherever we can trace them”

Art Ideas Poetry Imagination Searching

Book:Adrienne Rich's Poetry and Prose: Poems Prose Reviews and Criticism

Source: Adrienne Rich's Poetry and Prose: Poems Prose Reviews and Criticism

“Where do they go, these dreams of mine? Do they live? Do they die? Do they fall? Do they fly?”

Love Life Inspirational Writing Philosophy Dream Inspiration Motivational Death Poetry Fiction Fantasy Relationship Story Magical Realism

Book:The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“But walking causes absorption. Walking interminably, taking in through your pores the height of the mountains when you are confronting them at length, breathing in the shape of the hills for hours at a time during a slow descent. The body becomes steeped in the earth it treads. And thus, gradually, it stops being in the landscape: it becomes the landscape. That doesn’t have to mean dissolution, as if the walker were fading away to become a mere inflection, a footnote. It’s more a flashing moment: sudden flame, time catching fire. And here, the feeling of eternity is all at once that vibration between presences. Eternity, here, in a spark.”

Source: A Philosophy of Walking

“...nature itself is a poem that we humans have written [...and] the imagination is the principle vehicle of human progress.”

Poetry Nature Imagination Progress Pragmatism

Author:Rorty Richard

“Reading helps me escape to another world - any world that I want to be in.”

Poetry Reading Imagination Books Books Reading Verse Novel

Book:On Track

Source: On Track

“Drunk on imagination, that’s my kind of intoxication.”

Love Poetry Relationships Imagination

Book:Vine: Book of Poetry

Source: Vine: Book of Poetry

“[Poems] train and exercise the imagination. Trained imaginations are what we need most at a time like this. That is what will enable us to reach across cultures and understand each other, to think of new models and modes of organization that might work better, and to wage peace, because the love of beauty is deeply related to the love of peace.”

Writing Poetry Imagination Hospitality Marilyn Chandler Mcentyre

Book:Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies

Source: Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies

“Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap, forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathèd horn! While on mine ear it rings, Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:— Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea!”

Inspirational Poetry Imagination Sea

Author:Oliver Wendell Holmes

“…the imagination gives to everything that it touches a peculiarity, and it seems to me that the peculiarity of the imagination is nobility, of which there are many degrees. This inherent nobility is the natural source of another, which our extremely headstrong generation regards as false and decadent. I mean that nobility which is our spiritual height and depth; and while I know how difficult it is to express it, nevertheless I am bound to give a sense of it. Nothing could be more evasive and inaccessible. Nothing distorts itself and seeks disguise more quickly. There is a shame of disclosing it and in its definite presentations a horror of it. But there it is.”

Poetry Imagination Creativity Poetry Quotes

Book:The Necessary Angel: Essays on Reality and the Imagination

Source: The Necessary Angel: Essays on Reality and the Imagination

“There are days when my imagination in my enemy. It likes to keep me company in my darkest of times and romanticizes a past that was more of a horror story than a fairytale.”

Love Life Poetry Relationships Imagination

Book:Abandoned Breaths

Source: Abandoned Breaths

“In every possibility of a mind May you travel, yet not blind. As a head filled with imagination, Goes a heart full of gold creation, It's never late to have a dream. Nor is it so far away as it seems, And, like a rearview mirror reveals, Thus a fantasy soon becomes real. It may be closer than it appears. Or at least it will show up clear. Never give up a dream for fear!”

Source: ACross Tic

“Books connect us readers to what we cannot see but imagine, an intangible sort of wonder and magic.”

Poetry Imagination Books

Author:Stephanie Morales

“My favorite words in the world are these: “what” and “if” in conjunction. They question curiosities in simple form and function. “What” is a query of broadest scope. “If" is wonder that fuels all hope. Together they lasso the mind like rope, and spur the wildest deductions!”

Poetry Hope Imagination Poem Curiosity Richelle Goodrich What If Richelle E Goodrich Richelle Deductions Imagining

Book:Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a Few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

Source: Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a Few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

“‪You collide with destiny caught up in the mystery of walking the halls of a mind that's only inclined to recognize & expect victory.‬”

“I wish I could run into the world’s arms. Linger within the spaces between nothing. I wish I could filter out of existence. To live quietly without dying. I wish I could be cherished by life itself. To speak and sing volumes without lying to myself.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“All around us is a nothing that stretches on for infinity. We humans can barely comprehend that. If we comprehend it we are rarely pleased.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“I keep dying and hoping you notice me. But you’re too busy living.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“Did I love her? No. I obsessed over her completely. And thank heavens I was obsessed. Obsession, infatuation, is something short-lived. A sweet fever dream that leaves you exhausted from the high. Love is perpetual. Love is an entire world compared to that other form of mania people mistake love for. If love is loving the reality of a person, obsession is idealising the fantasy of another. Did I love her? No. Never. But I was utterly obsessed.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“A death in reverse is the rewinding of life. I do not die of old age, in a bed surrounded by strangers my loved ones paid to take care of me. I die in reverse. I die falling back into a younger age. From my forty-five years to twenty-five. To sixteen. When we were in love. To fourteen: when we first met. To five. To one. To the hospital my mother died at from the complications of my existence. A life for a life.”

Love Life Inspirational Writing Philosophy Humor Inspiration Motivational Death Poetry Hope Friendship Imagination Fiction Family Fantasy Relationship Story Magical Realism

Author:F.K. Preston

“I wanted to give you something that would last forever. Something that would surpass the world, that would still be alive and bright even after you passed away. Something beautiful. For your eyes and smile only. But I never found it. All I could give you is words. Words which were as fleeting as the heartbeats that shook my soul whenever you looked my way.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“The truth is there isn’t anything to me at all. All I know is that I can’t sleep well, I can’t dream well and I’m quite in love with you. That’s all there is to me. My greatest feature is my admiration for you. I know it’s not healthy. Like my insomnia. Like my dreamless nights. You make living alright. My nightmares come when I think of a night without Valeria. That’s when I realise you’re dead. That’s when I remember you’ve been gone for years. That’s when I remember I’m awake. And I wait for this dream called Life to leave me to my peace once and for all and forever.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“My creativity keeps me from starving. Humanity keeps my life mundane. Loving secures my love for life, but my imagination keeps me sane.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“There is nothing to me but you. I know it’s pathetic but, oh darling, it’s true.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“All that is required of you is an open mind and a little patience.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“There are no humans left. I should not be alone. I can’t help but wonder that. There were so many of us living. But time started growing young four years ago. It isn’t four years anymore. It’s a number I wouldn’t even be able to say. It feels like four years. It’s trapped in my tender memory as four years. It’s been an age. Multiple ages. It’s been lifetimes; every single lifetime that used to exist. I remember my mother screaming. I recall the doctors naming me as nurses wiped away her blood and covered her face with white. The end of the play. It’s been so long. Why am I alone?”

Love Life Inspirational Writing Philosophy Humor Inspiration Motivational Death Poetry Hope Friendship Imagination Fiction Family Fantasy Relationship Story Magical Realism

Author:F.K. Preston

“I recall my life every day. I recall my sins and my acts of purity. I remind myself I was never a religious man. I remind myself that I have been dead for half of forever. I remind myself of nothing. I move along to the next minute. Next day. Next year. The earth doesn’t change so much anymore. It doesn’t change so quickly. With humans, the earth had to keep changing. But you can only replace a dying thing so many times before someone notices. There haven’t been humans for years. Maybe a decade. Maybe more. I find myself loving their absence. The absence of humanity is the absence of violence. I love this peace. But then I remember my bones. My mind and my memories. I remember I’m human. I am the thing I detest. The creature that haunts my steps. It’s my shadow I see watching me. It’s my reflection in the water. I keep remembering. I live in fear. But still, I walk on.”

Love Life Inspirational Writing Philosophy Humor Inspiration Motivational Death Poetry Hope Friendship Imagination Fiction Family Fantasy Relationship Story Magical Realism

Author:F.K. Preston

“Four years ago the clocks started turning back. I open my eyes and see nothing. I feel nothing below or above me. I feel the absence of things. The absence of my flesh, my bones, my body, my mind. All that is left is awareness. I see nothing but the absence of colour. It’s not a black darkness. It’s simply nothing. The interior of a black hole. I recall news of a black hole lingering along the edges of our solar system. All that time ago. Four years ago. When the clocks started turning back. I hear nothing. Until there is a something. A small thing. A voice. I listen. There are more voices. The sounds are human. How long has it been since I’ve heard a human? The sounds scratch along my now present attention. They carve into my hearing. They are horrid, wretched things. Voices screaming. Growing loud and desperate. How many voices? Billions. This is the birth of our species. We are born screaming. It’s all we know to do. We have screamed for eternity. Within this empty space.”

Love Life Inspirational Writing Philosophy Humor Inspiration Motivational Death Poetry Hope Friendship Imagination Fiction Family Fantasy Relationship Story Magical Realism

Author:F.K. Preston

“I begin my life. I live again. I meet a young girl called Valeria. She smiles easily. She laughs tender sounds that pull at my heart. I’m too young to be profound but she makes me feel so safe. So cherished. I am thirty years old. I bump into a woman I knew when she was a girl. Valeria looks annoyed to see me. She lives in the future. Where the world is turning. I live within the past. Where the people are trapped and screaming and alone. I live within the past when Valeria and I were in love. She’s waiting for the cab to come, her foot tapping against the sidewalk. Her eyes glancing at her watch every few minutes. I’m eager to reunite our lives through some kind of friendship. I’m so eager to know her again, as she was when she was a child. But Valeria lives within the future. I live within the past. Have the two ever gotten along? Have they ever even met?”

Love Life Inspirational Writing Philosophy Humor Inspiration Motivational Death Poetry Hope Friendship Imagination Fiction Family Fantasy Relationship Story Magical Realism

Author:F.K. Preston

“But I can’t control my dreams. I can’t even remember them. For all I know I’m having the time of my life when I sleep, but I just can’t remember. So I’m forced to live in a life I have no control over. A life where I’m either numb to everything or terrified of every thought that crosses my mind. If this is all just a dream, then it sure is a disappointing one. But I still have time to try and control my dreams. I have time to try and make my dreams a reality in this waking life as well. The one bloody thing I have is time. I’ve got to remember that. I still have time. And despite everything, there is something reassuring about that.”

Source: The Artist, The Audience, and a Man Called Nothing

“The artistic creation of the poet, painter, photographer, and writer is a reflection of the artist’s inner world. The agenda of consciousness that spurs all forms of art is not to represent the outward appearance of things, but to portray its inward significance to the creator. A great poem, painting, photograph, and written composition fully express what the creator feels, in the deepest sense, about the distinctively depicted image that captured their imagination.”

Source: Dead Toad Scrolls

“So much of love is imagination -- its over-activity, its over-ambition, its over-the-top faith.”

Love Poetry Imagination

Book:Little Heretic

Source: Little Heretic

“purple threaded evening. a torn goddess laying on the roof. milk sky. lavender hued moan against hot asphalt. the thickness of evening presses into your throat. polaroids taped to the ceiling. ivy pouring out of the cracks in the wall. i found my courage buried beneath molding books and forgot to lock the door behind me. the old house never forgets. opened my mouth and a dandelion fell out. reached behind my wisdom teeth and found sopping wet seeds. pulled all of my teeth out just to say i could. he drowned himself in a pill bottle and the orange really brought out his demise. lay me down on a bed of ground spices. there’s a song there, i know it. amethyst geode eyes. cracked open. no one saw it coming. october never loved you. the moon still doesn’t understand that.”

Poetry Imagination Moving Forward Nonfiction October November Poetic Prose The Moon

Book:calloused: a field journal

Source: calloused: a field journal

“Imagination's better half can sometimes tilt it's heavy head and wink, as if to say, "That's the way!" And I'd be off at a trot wherever it led.”

Poetry Imagination Impetuousness

Book:Violades & Appledown

Source: Violades & Appledown

“There is a poem at the heart of things and a mythic story in the heart of each of us. At certain times it is the poetry of life and the mythic imagination of the soul that become necessary in order to heal the wounds inflicted by an excess of reason or an overuse of force.”

Heart Poetry Imagination Myth Poems Healing Wounds

Book:The Genius Myth

Source: The Genius Myth

“It could be said that the lectures changed the way many people thought about myth, fairy story, and poetry, and even about the relationship of imagination to thought and to language. One of the brilliant but cryptic insights he expressed was: ‘To ask what is the origins of stories … is to ask what is the origin of language and of the mind.”

Poetry Language Imagination Myth Fairy Tales Fairy Story

Book:The Return of the Ring Volume I: Proceedings of the Tolkien Society Conference 2012

Source: The Return of the Ring Volume I: Proceedings of the Tolkien Society Conference 2012

“Besides, a long poem is a test of invention, which I take to be the Polar star of Poetry, as Fancy is the sails - and Imagination the rudder.”

Poetry Imagination

Author:John Keats

“Dance with the waves of sea and sing with the sky, touch the sands with love and let your mind fly high.”

Inspirational Philosophy Poetry Quotes Imagination Poem Debasish Mridha Debasish Mridha M D Life Wisdom Dance With The Waves Of Sea Let Your Mind Fly High Sing With The Sky Touch The Sands With Love

Author:Debasish Mridha

“On hearing of the interesting events which have happened in the course of a man's experience, many people will wish that similar things had happened in their lives too, completely forgetting that they should be envious rather of the mental aptitude which lent those events the significance they possess when he describes them ; to a man of genius they were interesting adventures; but to the dull perceptions of an ordinary individual they would have been stale, everyday occurrences. This is, in the highest degree, the case with many of Goethe's and Byron's poems, which are obviously founded upon actual facts; where it is open to a foolish reader to envy the poet because so many delightful things happened to him, instead of envying that mighty power of fantasy which was capable of turning a fairly common experience into something so great and beautiful.”

Poetry Imagination Beauty Perception Thoughts On Life

Book:The Wisdom of Life, and Other Essays

Source: The Wisdom of Life, and Other Essays

“I have inflammation of the imagination.”

Writing Poetry Artist Imagination Fiction Musician Author Aphorism

Book:Excess of Being

Source: Excess of Being

“Musicians do not get on stage without hearing the song singing inside of them. Poets do not write as if they are jotting down a sermon, they see everything in their subconscious before presenting it to the conscious, which they later turn to readable materials. Artist do not draw and paint without painting in dream states, trance, or see an art form that others do not see. Being creative does not calls for being any supernatural entity, but in creating with the entities inside of you.”

Source: The Infinity Sign

“We are made of all those who have built and broken us.”

Love Poetry Quotes Poems Instagram Wild Her Atticus Love Her Wild Atticus Poetry Atticuspoetry

Book:Love Her Wild

Source: Love Her Wild

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