#poe

I regret to say I'm unable to reply to your unexpressed desires. ↗

— Harryette Mullen

#poetry #regrets #silence #courage

Poetry proceeds from the totality of man, sense, imagination, intellect, love, desire, instinct, blood and spirit together. ↗

— Jacques Maritain

#desire #imagination #instinct #intellect #love

Poets may be delightful creatures in the meadow or the garret, but they are menaces on the assembly line. ↗

— Rollo May

#creativity #poets #courage

Every man needs his Siren To check his courage and strength When he hears her song In his travels through the unknown. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#dejan-stojanovic #literature #literature-quotes #poetry #poetry-quotes

th' unconquerable will,/ And study of revenge, immortal hate,/ And courage never to submit or yield/ And what is else not to be overcome? ↗

— John Milton

#genesis #satan #war #courage

Right words are born in courage, which results from our struggle to make sense of our various predicaments. Cheer is what words are "trying to tell us/... It's native to the words/and what they want us always to know/even when it seems quite impossible to do. ↗

— William Meredith

#poetry #speech #communication

Le cancre Il dit non avec la tête Mais il dit oui avec le coeur Il dit oui à ce qu'il aime Il dit non au professeur Il est debout On le questionne Et tous les problèmes sont posés Soudain le fou rire le prend Et il efface tout Les chiffres et les mots Les dates et les noms Les phrases et les pièges Et malgré les menaces du maître Sous les huées des enfants prodiges Avec des craies de toutes les couleurs Sur le tableau noir du malheur Il dessine le visage du bonheur ↗

— Jacques Prévert

#school #dating

How to begin writing this down? Shall it be a simple inventory? A list of parts. Names. Dates. Genealogies. Sound begetting sound. Endless melody. If I were to say – a robin sings in the trees across the field from this coppice – would that be enough? Could you flesh things out from such a meagre outline? Or should I describe its song? Onomatopoeia. But the bird has long fallen silent before the words begin to form. And what of the other sounds – the constant polyphony? Distant hum of motorway traffic. Delicate rattle of leaf against branch. Everything in between. I fill the page as best I can, replace the diary under a stone, and retrace my steps down the darkening lane. But as I walk back under the eaves of those trees, I ask myself – could any film, recording or photograph tell you this? That whilst I dwelt within that wooded chamber, listening to those brief glimmers of song, I forgot about her, the river and its promise. ↗

— Richard Skelton

#dating

You only live twice: Once when you're born And once when you look death in the face. ↗

— Ian Fleming

#james-bond #philosophy #poetry #death

life's not a paragraph And death i think is no parenthesis ↗

— E.E. Cummings

#death