#try

A.E.Housman' No one, not even Cambridge was to blame (Blame if you like the human situation): Heart-injured in North London, he became The Latin Scholar of his generation. Deliberately he chose the dry-as-dust, Kept tears like dirty postcards in a drawer; Food was his public love, his private lust Something to do with violence and the poor. In savage foot-notes on unjust editions He timidly attacked the life he led, And put the money of his feelings on The uncritical relations of the dead, Where only geographical divisions Parted the coarse hanged soldier from the don. ↗

— W.H. Auden

#food

Calla, calla, princesa —dice el hada madrina—; en caballo, con alas, hacia acá se encamina, en el cinto la espada y en la mano el azor, el feliz caballero que te adora sin verte, y que llega de lejos, vencedor de la Muerte, a encenderte los labios con un beso de amor ↗

— Rubén Darío

#poetry #love

Jason Mashak’s SALTY AS A LIP is grounded in a voice patiently bridging the “steeples and ‘scrapers” of an inquisitive mind. The poems are at once syllogistic, hard-edged, satirical, reflective, and finally as playful as love notes. The true joy of this book is that we are deliciously engaged in a "pantomime of pleasure" which the language and imagery generously evoke. ↗

— James Ragan

#satire #love

mysterious money had stood to him as the symbol of earthly good, and the immediate object of toil. He had seemed to love it little in the years when every penny had its purpose for him; for he loved the purpose then. But now, when all purpose was gone, that habit of looking towards the money and grasping it with a sense of fulfilled effort made a loam that was deep enough for the seeds of desire. ↗

— George Eliot

#idolatry #money #love

The best give you can give today is the gift of LOVE! ↗

— Colishia S. Benjamin

#gift #give #life #love #poetry

As a poet I hold the most archaic values on earth. They go back to the Neolithic: the fertility of the soil, the magic of animals, the power-vision in solitude, the terrifying initiation and rebirth, the love and ecstasy of the dance, the common work of the tribe. ↗

— Gary Snyder

#poetry #love

So this is love: the Sculptor’s chisel. And stone, which in its whole life does not utter a single word, suddenly sings. ↗

— Milan Rúfus

#poetry-quotes #rodin-s-lovers #love

[T]he whole point is the wishing and remembering--not if what you want happens, not if remembering hurts. Because when you wish for something, you're askin. And when you ask, you're trying. And all anyone can do really is try, right? ↗

— Melissa Senate

#trying #wishes #wishing #love

I count no more my wasted tears; They left no echo of their fall; I mourn no more my lonesome years; This blessed hour atones for all. I fear not all that Time or Fate May bring to burden heart or brow, Strong in the love that came so late, Our souls shall keep it always now! ↗

— Elizabeth Akers Allen

#love #poetry #love

n’t you see, Will? You’re a person like me. You are like me. You say the things I think but never say out loud. You read the books I read. You love the poetry I love. You make me laugh with your ridiculous songs and the way you see the truth of everything. I feel like you can look inside me and see all the places I am odd or unusual and fit your heart around them, for you are odd and unusual in just the same way.” With the hand that was not holding his, she touched his cheek, lightly. “We are the same. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#perfection #poetry #truth #love