#poem

The machines are too dull when we are lion-poems that move & breathe. ↗

— Michael McClure

#lion #machines #nature #poems #poetry

Maybe you think life is not worth living, but is death worth dying for? ↗

— Cesar Nascimento

#hope #life #poem #suicide #death

And the pebbles fight each other as rocks/And my father bends among them/Two hands outstretching up to me/Not that I can hear. ↗

— Joe Strummer

#dreams #poem #art

[L]ife is a phenomenon in need of criticism, for we are, as fallen creatures, in permanent danger of worshipping false gods, of failing to understand ourselves and misinterpreting the behaviour of others, of growing unproductively anxious or desirous, and of losing ourselves to vanity and error. Surreptitiously and beguilingly, then, with humour or gravity, works of art--novels, poems, plays, paintings or films--can function as vehicles to explain our condition to us. They may act as guides to a truer, more judicious, more intelligent understanding of the world. ↗

— Alain de Botton

#art #criticism #desire #films #gravity

As Henry Moore carved or modelled his sculpture every day, he strove to surpass Donatello 4. and failed, but woke the next morning elated for another try. ↗

— Donald Hall

#donatello #effort #failure #henry-moore #poem

I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain - and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. ↗

— Robert Frost

#walking

I will not play at tug o' war. I'd rather play at hug o' war, Where everyone hugs Instead of tugs, Where everyone giggles And rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses, And everyone grins, And everyone cuddles, And everyone wins. ↗

— Shel Silverstein

#play

I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you. I want to ride in the swing of your hips. My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech. ↗

— Jeffrey McDaniel

#the-jerk #logic

No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem. ↗

— Booker T. Washington

#field #learns #much #poem #prosper

How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity. ↗

— Emily Dickinson

#poems #poetry #career