And nothing to look backward to with pride, and nothing to look forward to with hope.
Nature’s first green is gold.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orch-ard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night.
It should be of the pleasure of a poem itself to tell how it can. The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom. The figure is the same for love.
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound By countless silken ties of love and thought To everything on earth the compass round, And only by one’s going slightly taut In the capriciousness of summer air Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
The first thing I do in any town I come to is ask if it has a bookstore.
Keep all ur troubles in ur own pocket. But, make sure that the pocket has a hole!
The best thing we’re put here for’s to see; The strongest thing that’s given us to see with’s a telescope. Someone in every town, seems to me, owes it to the town to keep one.
I am sure I have heard this several times from places I can’t recall, but it’s not already in the Gaia Quotes database, so I add this profound insight from the fields of psychological healing and spiritual evolution. It sure has helped me.
Nearly everybody is looking for something brave to do. I don’t know why people shouldn’t write poetry. That’s brave.
Do you know, Considering the market, there are more Poems produced than any other thing? No wonder poets sometimes have to seem So much more businesslike than businessmen. Their wares are so much harder to get rid of.
Any eye is an evil eye That looks in on to a mood apart.
There are tones of voices that mean more than words.
There are three things, after all, that a poem must reach: the eye, the ear, and what we may call the heart or the mind. It is the most important of all to reach the heart of the reader.
An idea comes as close to something for nothing as you can get.
Unless I’m wrong I but obey The urge of a song: I’m-bound-away! And I may return If dissatisfied With what I learn From having died.
Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on; But let there never be curtain drawn Between you and me.
We cannot tell some people what it is believe, partly because they are too stupid to understand, partly because we are too proudly vague to explain.
The chance is the remotest, Of its going much longer unnoticed, That I’m not keeping pace With the headlong human race.
It’s God – I recognised him from Blake’s picture.