Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Dreaming men are haunted men.
Bury my heart at Wounded Knee.
Life was a storm to wander through.
I am tired of loving a foreign muse.
Books are not men and yet they are alive.
The art finds kingdoms in a foot of ground.
Honesty is as rare as a man without self-pity.
We thought, because we had power, we had wisdom.
Even in hell, if a man was a man, you'd know it.
I had lost something in my youth and made money instead.
I died in my boots like a pioneer With the whole wide sky above me.
Seine and Piave are silver spoons, But the spoonbowl-metal is thin and worn
I admire the attention other writers can give to the world we're walking in.
You can take off your hats now, gentlemen, and I think perhaps you'd better.
I have fallen in love with American names, the sharp names that never get fat.
One cannot balance tragedy in the scales Unless one weighs it with the tragic heart.
Whatever poetry that was in me was coming out in the form of constructing art books!
I have fallen in love with American names, the sharp, gaunt names that never get fat.
Truth is a hard deer to hunt. If you eat too much truth at once, you may die of the truth.
Our fathers and ourselves sowed dragon's teeth. Our children know and suffer the armed men.
Truth is a hard deer to hunt. If you eat too much truth at once, you might die of the truth.
As for what you're calling hard luck - well, we made New England out of it. That and codfish.
Treat a boy like a fool and he'll act like a fool, I say, but there's some folks need convincing.
I think a blog is a catalyst for a number of possible kinds of writing besides being its own medium.
Money is sullen And wisdom is sly, But youth is the pollen That blows through the sky And does not ask why.
If two New Hampshiremen aren't a match for the devil, we might as well give the country back to the Indians.
We thought we were done with these things but we were wrong. We thought, because we had power, we had wisdom.
When Daniel Boone goes by at night The phantom deer arise And all lost, wild America Is burning in their eyes.
I do think that the kind of writing that I do will always be around and printed in books, magazines, and now blogs.
You work hard, and you'll rise. But, if you've got any foolish notions, just knock them on the head and forget them.
Grant us brotherhood, not only for this day but for all our years - a brotherhood not of words but of acts and deeds.
There's nothing compared to the history of writing about the city of New York that you get, say, in Charles Reznikoff.
Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways.
Sometimes a sign or a quote is simply interesting by itself and does not require anything beyond being framed on a page.
Defeat is a fact and victory can be a fact. If the idea is good, it will survive defeat, it may even survive the victory.
Life is not lost by dying! Life is lost, Minute by minute, day by dragging day, In all the thousand, small, uncaring ways...
We cannot be a house divided - divided in will, divided in interest, divided in soul. We cannot be a house divided and live.
A man with a mouth like a mastiff, a brow like a mountain, and eyes like burning antracite - that was Dan'l Webster in his prime.
Technology will never rescue anyone from being a bad poet, but if you're good, it has the potential to do a lot of exciting things.
A phrase may come to me as I am walking, and, once I write it down in my journal, the rest of the poem will unravel from that catalyst.
It is better the truth should come little by little. I have learned that, being a priest. Perhaps, in the old days, they ate knowledge too fast.
It is forbidden to go east, but I have gone, forbidden to go on the great river, but I am there. Open your hearts, you spirits, and hear my song.
Something begins, begins; Starlit and sunlit, something walks abroad, In flesh and spirit and fire. Something is loosed to change the shaken world.
Broad-streeted Richmond . . . The trees in the streets are old trees used to living with people, Family trees that remember your grandfather's name.
There are many trials that seem hard to bear at first which prove true blessings later when we see of what false materials they were first composed.
When my own writing needs a perk, I open Zukofsky and read from "A" - particularly sections "22" and "23." It can be opaque, but I love the intensity.
Oh, Georgia booze is mighty fine booze, The best yuh ever poured yuh, But it eats the soles right offen yore shoes, For Hell's broke loose in Georgia.
The blog is also a way to continue to register what I see and hear in a day - no matter what the form. In fact, my blog is a complete mixture of forms.
Books are not men and yet they are alive. They are man's memory and his aspiration, the link between his present and his past, the tools he builds with.
Basically when I'm walking I'm not consciously writing or intending anything. In the manner I have learned from meditation practice, I let things unfold.