Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
My! ain't men blinder'n moles?
Youth condemns; maturity condones
All recurring joy is pain refined.
Youth condemns; maturity condones.
Even pain pricks to livelier living.
Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.
Everything mortal has moments immortal
I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.
May is much sunshine through small leaves.
Love is a game-yes? I think it is a drowning.
Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
Happiness, to some, elation; Is, to others, mere stagnation.
Poetry, far more than fiction, reveals the soul of humanity.
Not a softness anywhere about me, Only whalebone and brocade.
Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.
You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
Happiness, to some, is elation; to others it is mere stagnation.
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me,and drench me in loneliness.
I shall go Up and down In my gown. Gorgeously arrayed, Boned and stayed.
Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me, and drench me in loneliness.
The stigma of oddness is the price a myopic world always exacts of genius.
To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart.
Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.
Brighter than fireflies upon the Uji River are your words in the dark, Beloved.
All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin
A man must be sacrificed now and again to provide for the next generation of men.
Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
If what we worship fail us, still the fire burns on, and it is much to have believed.
Time! Joyless emblem of the greed of millions, robber of the best which earth can give.
In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jeweled fan, I too am a rare Pattern.
Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.
Let us be of cheer, remembering that the misfortunes hardest to bear are those which never come.
Take everything easy and quit dreaming and brooding and you will be well guarded from a thousand evils.
When you came, you were like red wine and honey, and the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
On the neck of the young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise. Youth condemns; maturity condones.
Don’t ask a writer what he’s working on. It’s like asking someone with cancer on the progress of his disease.
In science, read by preference the newest works. In literature, read the oldest. The classics are always modern.
Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know.
Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.
I never deny poems when they come; whatever I am doing, whatever I am writing, I lay it aside and attend to the arriving poem.
Art is like politics. Any theory carried too far ends in sterility, and freshness is only gained by following some other line.
Happiness: We rarely feel it. I would buy it, beg it, steal it, Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one transcendent good.
Fifteen millions of soldiers with popguns and horses All bent upon killing, because their "of courses" Are not quite the same.