I don’t want to be a tree; I want to be its meaning. — Orhan Pamuk, My Name is Red. (Vintage; Reprint edition August 27, 2002) Originally published 1998.
we must bring our own light to the darkness. — Charles Bukowski, from “We Must,” Septuagenarian Stew: Stories & Poems. (Black Sparrow Press; Re-issue edition 1990)
But you will never realize that an incident which filled but a degree in the circle of your thoughts covered the whole circumference of mine. No person can see exactly what and where another’s horizon is. — Thomas Hardy, Two on a Tower. (Hesperides Press November 12, 2006) Originally published 1882
To Himself So you’ve come to me now without knowing why; Nor why you sit in the ruby plush of an ugly chair, the sly Revealing angle of light turning your hair a silver gray; Nor why you have chosen this moment to set the writing of years Against the writing of nothing; you who… Continue reading Mark Strand
O my poor words, bear with me. — Theodore Roethke, Straw for the Fire: From the Notebooks of Theodore Roethke, ed. David Wagoner (Copper Canyon Press November 1, 2006)
When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep — W.B. Yeats,, from “When You are Old,” The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats. (Scribner; 2nd Revised… Continue reading W.B. Yeats
Poems crystallize from the substance of time. A cluster of moments, like bees dangling from the hive’s mouth. — Anna Kamienska, from “ndustrious Amazement: A Notebook,” Poetry (March 1st, 2011)