#poetry

61 quotes

“Sólo con una ardiente paciencia conquistaremos la espléndida ciudad que dará luz, justicia y dignidad a todos los hombres. Así la poesía no habrá cantado en vano. Only with a burning patience can we conquer the splendid City which will give light, justice and dignity to all mankind. In this way the song will not have been sung in vain.”

“Es la hora, amor mío, de apartar esta rosa sombría, cerrar las estrellas, enterrar la ceniza en la tierra: y, en la insurrección de la luz, despertar con los que despertaron o seguir en el sueño alcanzando la otra orilla del mar que no tiene otra orilla. It is time, love, to break off that sombre rose, shut up the stars and bury the ash in the earth; and, in the rising of the light, wake with those who awoke or go on in the dream, reaching the other shore of the sea which has no other shore.”

“Religión en el Este (Religion in the East) from Memorial of Isla Negra [ Memorial de Isla Negra ] (1964), trans. by Anthony Kerrigan in Selected Poems by Pablo Neruda [Houghton Mifflin, 1990, ISBN 0”

“Y algo golpeaba en mi alma, fiebre o alas perdidas, y me fui haciendo solo, descifrando aquella quemadura y escribí la primera línea vaga, vaga, sin cuerpo, pura, tontería pura sabiduría del que no sabe nada, y vi de pronto el cielo desgranado y abierto. And something started in my soul, fever or forgotten wings, and I made my own way, deciphering that fire, and I wrote the first faint line, faint, without substance, pure nonsense, pure wisdom of someone who knows nothing, and I suddenly saw the heavens unfastened and open.”

“Oda a la Bella Desnuda (Ode to a Beautiful Nude) , from Nuevas Odas Elementales (1956), trans. Nathaniel Tarn in Selected Poems by Pablo Neruda [Houghton Mifflin, 1990, ISBN 0”

“Only now have I understood that there was a secret relationship between what I have called my expulsion from the present and the writing of poetry . Poetry is in love with the instant and seeks to relive it in the poem, thus separating it from sequential time and turning it into a fixed present. But at that time I wrote without wondering why I was doing it. I was searching for the gateway to the present: I wanted to belong to my time and to my century. A little later this obsession became a fixed idea: I wanted to be a modern poet. My search for modernity had begun. Nobel Lecture”

“There can be no society without poetry , but society can never be realized as poetry, it is never poetic. Sometimes the two terms seek to break apart. They cannot. "Signs in Rotation" (1967) in The Bow and the Lyre : The Poem, The Poetic Revelation, Poetry and History (1973) as translated by Ruth L.C. Simms, p. 249”

“There are certain artists who belong to all the people, everywhere, all the time. The list of singers, musicians, and poets must include David the harpist from the Old Testament, Aesop the Storyteller, Omar Khayyam the Tent Maker, Shakespeare the Bard of Avon, Louis Armstrong the genius of New Orleans, Om Kalsoum the soul of Egypt, Frank Sinatra , Mahalia Jackson , Dizzy Gillespie , Ray Charles ... Celia Cruz ...All great artists draw from the same resource: the human heart, which tells us all that we are more alike than we are unalike. Maya Angelou Letter to My Daughter”

“I am capable of what every other human is capable of. This is one of the great lessons of war and life . As quoted in Goal Mapping : How to Turn Your Dreams into Realities (2006) by Brian Mayne, p. 84”

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry , but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh , eat , worry , and die , it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends . Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now (1993) p. 12.”

“Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage. As quoted in Diversity : Leaders Not Labels (2006) by Stedman Graham, p. 224”

“A bizarre sensation pervades a relationship of pretense . No truth seems true. A simple morning's greeting and response appear loaded with innuendo and fraught with implications. ... Each nicety becomes more sterile and each withdrawal more permanent. Singin' and Swingin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas (1976), chapter 5.”

“¡Que no quiero verla! Dile a la luna que venga, que no quiero ver la sangre de Ignacio sobre la arena. ¡Que no quiero verla! I will not see it! Tell the moon to come, for I do not want to see the blood of Ignacio on the sand. I will not see it! Llanto por Ignacio Sanchez Mejias”

“Las heridas quemaban como soles a las cinco de la tarde, y el gentío rompía las ventanas a las cinco de la tarde. A las cinco de la tarde. ¡Ay qué terribles cinco de la tarde! ¡Eran las cinco en todos los relojes! ¡Eran las cinco en sombra de la tarde! The wounds were burning like suns at five in the afternoon, and the crowd broke the windows At five in the afternoon. Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon! It was five by all the clocks! It was five in the shade of the afternoon! Llanto por Ignacio Sanchez Mejias”

“Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montaña. Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea and the horse on the mountain. " Romance Sonámbulo " from Primer romancero gitano”

“If I read a book [and] it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way? Letter to T. W. Higginson (1870); Letters (1958) p. 474, no. 342a”

“My friends are my "estate." Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them. Letter to Samuel Bowles (August 1858 or 1859); Thomas H. Johnson (ed.) The Letters of Emily Dickinson (1958) p. 338, no. 193”

“God is sitting here, looking into my very soul to see if I think right thoughts . Yet I am not afraid, for I try to be right and good; and He knows every one of my struggles. Letter to Abiah Root (29 January 1850); Mabel Loomis Todd (ed.) Letters of Emily Dickinson , vol. 1 (Boston: Roberts Bros, 1894) p. 39 [1] [2]”