All Quotes By Tag: Poetry

“I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases…..”

“But one kiss levitates above all the others. Theintersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.The I’ll love you through a brick wall kiss.Even when I’m dead, I’ll swim through the Earth,like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.”

“i writebecauseit is the only wayi can reach you.”

“I think of you and think of love;when all I knew to do was run;though this is now and that was then;I know I’d do it all again”

“And now when I delete your iMessages, they show up in an ‘Archive’. They live on in ‘The Cloud’, floating somewhere up there in space.It is hard to move on with the knowledge that somewhere up there in space: we are alive amongst the satellites.”

“left brain – right brain: show me the way; don’t know whether to go or stay. left brain – right brain: is this a test? my heart says touch him by my head knows best”

“Living is no laughing matter:You must take it seriously.So much so and to such a degreethat, for example, your hands tiedbehind your back,your back to the wallor else in a laboratoryin your white coat and safety glasses,you can die for people –even for people whose faces you’venever seen,even though you know livingis the most real, most beautifulthing.I mean, you must take living soseriouslythat even at seventy, for example, you’llplant olive trees –and not for your children, either,but because, although you fear death youdon’t believe it,because living, I mean, weighs heavier.- “On Living”

“You are an Universe of Universes and your soul a source of songs.”

“A lot we have in our head,But things of heart are not yet dead,They have done none, but just fled,Out of us, Forgotten, just been bled..”

“Hey you, dragging the halo-how about a holiday in the islands of grief? Tongue is the word I wish to have with you.Your eyes are so blue they leak.Your legs are longer than a prisoner’slast night on death row.I’m filthier than the coal miner’s bathtuband nastier than the breath of Charles Bukowski.You’re a dirty little windshield.I’m standing behind you on the subway, hard as calculus. My breathbe sticking to your neck like graffiti.I’m sitting opposite you in the bar, waiting for you to uncross your boundaries.I want to rip off your logicand make passionate sense to you.I want to ride in the swing of your hips.My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech.But with me for a lover, you won’t needcatastrophes. What attracted me in the first placewill ultimately make me resent you.I’ll start telling you lies, and my lies will sparkle, become the bad stars you chart your life by.I’ll stare at other women so blatantlyyou’ll hear my eyes peeling, because sex with you is like Great Britain: cold, groggy, and a little uptight.Your bed is a big, soft calculatorwhere my problems multiply.Your brain is a garageI park my bullshit in, for free.You’re not really my new girlfriend, just another flop sequel of the first one, who was based on the true story of my mother.You’re so ugly I forgot how to spell.I’ll cheat on you like a ninth grade math test, break your heart just for the sound it makes.You’re the ‘this’ we need to put an end to.The more you apologize, the less I forgive you.So how about it?”

“We live in an old chaos of the sun.”

“Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another,Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.”

“I keep telling myselfThat you’rejust a girl.Another leaf blown across my pathDestined to pass onAnd shrivel into yourselfLike all the others.Yet despite my venomYou refuse to witherOr fade.You remain golden throughout,And in your gaze I am left to wonder if it is me aloneWho feels the fall.”

“Nothing is more natural than mutual misunderstanding; the contrary is always surprising. I believe that one never agrees on anything except by mistake, and that all harmony among human beings is the happy fruit of an error.”

“You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends,And how, how rare and strange it is, to findIn a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends,(For indeed I do not love it … you knew? you are not blind! How keen you are!)To find a friend who has these qualities,Who has, and givesThose qualities upon which friendship lives.How much it means that I say this to you-Without these friendships-life, what cauchemar!”