What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.
The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.
If we look long enough and hard enough ... we will begin to see the connections that bind us together, and when we recognize those connections, we will begin to change the world.
What three things can never be done? / Forget. Keep silent. Stand alone
My lifetime listens to yours.
Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings. Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest. The blessing is in the seed.
However confused the scene of our life appears, however torn we may be who now do face that scene, it can be faced, and we can go on to be whole.
Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry.
A world is to be fought for, sung, and built: Love must imagine the world.
As we live our truths, we will communicate across all barriers, speaking for the sources of peace. Peace that is not lack of war, but fierce and positive.
Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest.
One writes in order to feel.
Poetry is, above all, an approach to the truth of feeling.
Always our wars have been our confessions of weakness
If there were no poetry on any day in the world, poetry would be invented that day. For there would be an intolerable hunger.
Reality is the completion of experience.
I am working out the vocabulary of my silence.
The universe of poetry is the universe of emotional truth. Our material is in the way we feel and the way we remember.
The journey is my home.
In time of crisis, we summon up our strength. Then, if we are lucky, we are able to call every resource, every forgotten image that can leap to our quickening, every memory that can make us know our power. And this luck is more than it seems to be: it depends on the long preparation of the self to be used.
Let us not fear the hidden. Or each other.
A work of art is one through which the consciousness of the artist is able to give its emotions to anyone who is prepared to receive them.
The 'idea' for the poem, which may come as an image thrown against memory, as a sound of words that sets off a traveling of sound and meaning, as a curve of emotion (a form) plotted by certain crises of events or image or sound, or as a title which evokes a sense of inner relations; this is the first 'surfacing' of the poem. Then a period of stillness may follow.
Outrage and possibility are in all the poems we know.
dogma and shrinking from the external world are at one limit of the range of belief. At the other are science and poetry and, indeed, reality.
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