#sonnet

I got lost in the night, without the light of your eyelids, and when the night surrounded me I was born again: I was the owner of my own darkness. ↗

— Pablo Neruda

#light

I love you as one loves certain dark things. ↗

— Pablo Neruda

#love

to hear with eyes belongs to loves fine wit ↗

— William Shakespeare

#love

Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love her. ↗

— William Shakespeare

#sonnet #love

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced The rich proud cost of outworn buried age; When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed And brass eternal slave to mortal rage; When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watery main, Increasing store with loss and loss with store; When I have seen such interchange of state, Or state itself confounded to decay; Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, That Time will come and take my love away. This thought is as a death which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose. ↗

— William Shakespeare

#age

If I wrote in a sonnet form, I would be distorting. Or if I had some great new idea for line breaks and I used it in a poem, but it's really not right for that poem, but I wanted it, that would be distorting. ↗

— Sharon Olds

#distorting #form #great #had #i

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. ↗

— William Shakespeare

#love

Even if you walk exactly the same route each time - as with a sonnet - the events along the route cannot be imagined to be the same from day to day, as the poet's health, sight, his anticipations, moods, fears, thoughts cannot be the same. ↗

— A. R. Ammons

#anticipations #cannot #day #day to day #each

I used to write sonnets and various things, and moved from there into writing prose, which, incidentally, is a lot more interesting than poetry, including the rhythms of prose. ↗

— Shelby Foote

#incidentally #including #interesting #into #lot