The breath of dying lilies haunted the twilight air.
Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do; Men a longer life than dogs do; Dogs a longer life than love does.
Music my rampart, and my only one.
Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.
Tea was sucha comfort.
The poem is the thing. Is it interesting? – Is it beautiful? –Is it sublime? Then it was written by nobody. It exists by itself.
I see things with my own eyes, just as if they were the first eyes that ever saw, and then I set about to tell, as best I can, just what I've seen.
I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
Its not loves going hurts my days But that it went in little ways.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. Nobody that matters, that is.
Life is a quest and love a quarrel.
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
God, I can push the grass apart and lay my finger on Thy heart.
The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.
The longest absence is less perilous to love than the terrible trials of incessant proximity.
You are loved. If so, what else matters?
A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.
Searching my heart for its true sorrow, This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of words and people, Sick of the city, wanting the sea.
I have learned to fail. And I have had my say.
The younger generation forms a country of its own.
What the customer demands is last year's model, cheaper. To find out what the customer needs you have to understand what the customer is doing as well as he understands it. Then you build what he needs and you educate him to the fact that he needs it.
This summer has been so short, so small. I think that like Alice it ate the cake that said Eat Me, and dwindled and dwindled until it was so tiny that it ran out through the cracks under the door.
Nobody speaks to me. People fall in love with me, and annoy me and distress me and flatter me and excite me and—and all that sort of thing. But no one speaks to me. I sometimes think that no one can. Can you?
I do not think there is a woman in whom the roots of passion shoot deeper than in me.
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
There is no shelter in you anywhere.
I know, but I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
But you, you foolish girl, you have gone home to a leaky castle across the sea to lie awake in linen smelling of lavender, and hear the nightingale, and long for me.
Set the foot down with distrust on the crust of the world - it is thin.
Who's that knocking on my grave and will not let me sleep, a year has one.
I went to Boston fully expecting to be arrested - arrested by a polizia created by a government that my ancestors rebelled to establish.
Not truth, but faith, it is that keeps the world alive.
Take up the song; forget the epitaph.
So come on out, my dear old sweet Sister, - & we'll open our oysters together.
I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.
I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.
My god is all gods in one. When I see a beautiful sunset, I worship the god of Nature; when I see a hidden action brought to light, I worship the god of Truth; when I see a bad man punished and a good man go free, I worship the god of Justice; when I see a penitent forgiven, I worship the god of Mercy.
It is high time we found out about this man Cummings. Let us give him every opportunity to show us at once whether he is a genius, a charlatan, or a congenital defective - and get him off our minds.
I'm so tired of hearing about 'Renascence,' I'm nearly dead. I find it's as hard to live down an early triumph as an early indiscretion.
Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, but climb.
A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.
Catch from the board of beauty/ Such careless crumbs as fall.
Life must go on; I forget just why.
I, being born a woman and distressed By all the needs and notions of my kind...
Music, my rampart and my only one.
The young are so old, they are born with their fingers crossed.
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It's only that.
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.
