#poet

... Who knows what death, anxiety of the living, Who knows what loneliness, end of the loving I could say to myself of the love (I had): Let it not be immortal, since it is flame But let it be infinite while it lasts. ↗

— Vinicius de Moraes

#living #loving #death

Long ago an uncalled rain fell and a called-upon God stayed equally distant. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#god #literature #literature-quotes #poems #poetry

Only mystery makes us live. Only mystery. ↗

— Federico García Lorca

#poetry #spanish #inspirational

So what if the air in Paris smells of romance? My shirt smells of you. ↗

— Pooja Nansi

#poetry #romance #love

The poet or the revolutionary is there to articulate the necessity, but until the people themselves apprehend it, nothing can happen ... Perhaps it can't be done without the poet, but it certainly can't be done without the people. The poet and the people get on generally very badly, and yet they need each other. The poet knows it sooner than the people do. The people usually know it after the poet is dead; but that's all right. The point is to get your work done, and your work is to change the world. ↗

— James Baldwin

#poets #writing #change

As often as we made love I remembered what my poet told me, that this man was born of a goddess, the force that moves the stars and the waves of the sea and couples the animals in the fields in spring, the power of passion, the light of the evening star. ↗

— Ursula K. Le Guin

#mythology #passion #poetry #love

O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes; Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching Earth; Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs. She hath no questions, she hath no replies. ↗

— Jeffrey Eugenides

#christianity #death #earth #funeral #poem

Dying only means moving into a nicer house. We have only gone into the next room. We still are what we have always been. We aren’t far away. We are only on the other side of the pathway. ↗

— Kerry Okines

#poetry #death

someone's sent a loving note in lines of returning geese and as the moon fills my western chamber as petals dance over the flowing stream again I think of you the two of us living a sadness apart a hurt that can't be removed yet when my gaze comes down my heart stays up ↗

— Orson Scott Card

#poetry #love

If I could blame it on all the mothers and fathers of the world, they of the lessons, the pellets of power, they of the love surrounding you like batter ... Blame it on God perhaps? He of the first opening that pushed us all into our first mistakes? No, I'll blame it on Man For Man is God and man is eating the earth up like a candy bar and not one of them can be left alone with the ocean for it is known he will gulp it all down. The stars (possibly) are safe. At least for the moment. The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death. ↗

— Anne Sexton

#death