#poetry

No duties. I don’t have to be profound. I don’t have to be artistically perfect. Or sublime. Or edifying. I just wander. I say: ‘You were running, That’s fine. It was the thing to do.’ And now the music of the worlds transforms me. My planet enters a different house. Trees and lawns become more distinct. Philosophies one after another go out. Everything is lighter yet not less odd. Sauces, wine vintages, dishes of meat. We talk a little of district fairs, Of travels in a covered wagon with a cloud of dust behind, Of how rivers once were, what the scent of calamus is. That’s better than examining one’s private dreams. And meanwhile it has arrived. It’s here, invisible. Who can guess how it got here, everywhere. Let others take care of it. Time for me to play hooky. Buena notte. Ciao. Farewell. ↗

— Czesław Miłosz

#dreams

For what is a dream if not love first felt and what is mystery if not life itself ↗

— Giselle V. Steele

#dreams

Fly without wings; Dream with open eyes; See in darkness. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#dejan-stojanovic #dreams #flying #literature #literature-quotes

من جديد لا أجد ما أقوله سوى أنني أحببتك أكثر ↗

— لطيفة الحاج

#poetry #dreams

A word only writes Its night and rides Its dream. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#dejan-stojanovic #dream #literature #literature-quotes #night

A heartbeat without anything to support A body that fears its own warmth You who hates their own reflection Are you unable to face forward anymore? ↗

— Tiffany Fulton

#dreams

Tho' you're tired and weary, still journey on, Till you come to your happy abode, Where all the love you've been dreaming of, Will be there at the end of the road. ↗

— Harry Lauder

#dreams

Foggy nights bring some comfort. He can get lost in the mist and there is no one to stare or question. ↗

— Susie Clevenger

#comfort #fear #freedom #lost #poetry

Always learn poems by heart. They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they'll make your soul impervious to the world's soft decay. ↗

— Janet Fitch

#poetry #water

Tis true my garments threadbare are, And sorry poor I seem; But inly I am richer far Than any poet's dream. For I've a hidden life no one Can ever hope to see; A sacred sanctuary none May share with me. Aloof I stand from out the strife, Within my heart a song; By virtue of my inner life I to myself belong. Against man-ruling I rebel, Yet do not fear defeat, For to my secret citadel I may retreat. Oh you who have an inner life Beyond this dismal day With wars and evil rumours rife, Go blessedly your way. Your refuge hold inviolate; Unto yourself be true, And shield serene from sordid fate The Real You. ↗

— Robert W. Service

#poetry #refuge #strength #dreams