I am so mad with love that mad men say to me – be still!
I grow silent. Dear soul, you speak.
Knock, And He’ll open the door Vanish, And He’ll make you shine like the sun Fall, And He’ll raise you to the heavens Become nothing, And He’ll turn you into everything.
Purify your eyes, and see the pure world. Your life will fill with radiant forms.
April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
Every moment is a fresh beginning.
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is.
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear.
I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.
I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
The question, O me! so sad, recurring – What good amid these, O me, O life? That you are here – that life exists and identity, that the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware, I sit content, And if each and all be aware, I sit content.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower Hold infinity in the palms of your hand and eternity in an hour.
This life’s dim windows of the soul Distorts the heavens from pole to pole And leads you to believe a lie When you see with, not through, the eye.
The world has kissed my Soul with its pain, asking for its return in Songs.
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.
Beauty is truth, truth beauty,-that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever.