#poetry

Vandals listen only when others are stronger. If vandals are equal or stronger Their word is the last word. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#dejan-stojanovic #listening #literature #literature-quotes #others

One's-Self I Sing One's-self I sing, a simple separate person, Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse. Of physiology from top to toe I sing, Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say the Form complete is worthier far, The Female equally with the Male I sing. Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine, The Modern Man I sing. ↗

— Walt Whitman

#poet #poetry #walt-whitman #equality

In poems, equally as in philosophic disquisitions, genius produces the strongest impressions of novelty while it rescues the most admitted truths from the impotence caused by the very circumstance of their universal admission. ↗

— Samuel Taylor Coleridge

#genius #novelty #poetry #truth #truths

Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain. ↗

— William Faulkner

#poetry #sorrow #experience

If I say your voice is an amber waterfall in which I yearn to burn each day, if you eat my mouth like a mystical rose with powers of healing and damnation, If I confess that your body is the only civilization I long to experience… would it mean that we are close to knowing something about love? ↗

— Aberjhani

#famous-quotes #love #mysticism #passion #poetry

The wind is the moon's imagination wandering. ↗

— Saul Williams

#imagination

Nature is bent on new beginning and death has not a chance of winning... ↗

— Rosy Cole

#great-quotes #nature #poetry #rebirth #rejuvenation

We speak in (rich) monotones. Our poetry is haunted by the music it has left behind. Orpheus shrinks to a poet when he looks back, with the impatience of reason, on a music stronger than death. ↗

— George Steiner

#poetry #death

And here face down beneath the sun And here upon earth's noonward height To feel the always coming on The always rising of the night ↗

— Archibald MacLeish

#death #night #poem #poet #poetry

I once saw many flowers blooming Upon my way, in indolence I scorned to pick them in my going And passed in proud indifference. Now, when my grave is dug, they taunt me; Now, when I'm sick to death in pain, In mocking torment still they haunt me, Those fragrant blooms of my disdain. ↗

— Heinrich Heine

#flowers #illness #poetry #symbolism #death