All Quotes By Tag: Poetry

“A Note Life is the only way to get covered in leaves, catch your breath on the sand, rise on wings; to be a dog, or stroke its warm fur; to tell pain from everything it’s not; to squeeze inside events, dawdle in views, to seek the least of all possible mistakes. An extraordinary chance to remember for a moment a conversation held with the lamp switched off; and if only once to stumble upon a stone, end up soaked in one downpour or another, mislay your keys in the grass; and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes; and to keep on not knowing something important.”

“Otter! Otter! Otter!Don’t lead cows to slaughter!I love you, and I knowI should’ve told you soon-aBut you didn’t buy the dolphin-safe tuna!”

“Women Are Not RosesWomen have no beginningonly continualflows.Though rivers flowwomen are notrivers.Women are notrosesthey are not oceansor stars.i would like to tellher this buti think shealready knows.”

“Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse – and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness -And Wilderness is Paradise enow.”

“my boy? he is evenbetter than books. -fiction has nothing on you.”

“كيف ليَ أن أكتب قصيدة تخدش وجه العالموتدير دفّة القمر؟”

“Let’s fly away and start over in a new city.”

“We are all wolves, howling to the same moon.”

“Thinking of you is a poison I drink often.”

“She wore the moonlight like lingerie.”

“We are never alone We are all wolves Howling to the same moon.”

“I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.”

“Always in my love, sudden night.Always in myself, my enemy.And always in my always, the same absence.”

“I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that I loved the best Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.”

“Welcome, thou kind deceiver!Thou best of thieves: who, with an easy key,Dost open life, and, unperceived by us,Even steal us from ourselves.”