Nº. 1 of  6

A Poet Reflects

Posts tagged quotation:

I believed that I wanted to be a poet, but deep down I just wanted to be a poem.

Jaime Gil de Bieda (via breathemystardust)

(Source: light-essence, via poetfire)

“Not for a moment, beautiful aged Walt Whitman, have I failed to see your beard full of butterflies.”
—Federico García Lorca

“Not for a moment, beautiful aged Walt Whitman, have I failed to see your beard full of butterflies.”

—Federico García Lorca

“To love truth with all one’s soul is something
that cannot be done without a wrenching.”

—Simone Weil

“You don’t have a soul.  You are a soul.  You have a body.”

—C. S. Lewis

“Myth—the practice of memory.”
—Joanne Kyger, Naropa panel discussion, summer 1993
Photograph: Joanne Kyger in Amora during a pilgrimage to Buddha sites and visit with Lama Govinda, March 1962.

“Myth—the practice of memory.”

—Joanne Kyger, Naropa panel discussion, summer 1993

Photograph: Joanne Kyger in Amora during a pilgrimage to Buddha sites and visit with Lama Govinda, March 1962.


“Silence is too accurate.”  —Mark Rothko

“What is that you express in your eyes?  It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.”
—Walt Whitman

“What is that you express in your eyes?  It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.”

—Walt Whitman

“And so I turned, canny for my years, from the professors to the poets, listening—to the lyric tenor of Swinburne and the tenor robusto of Shelley, to Shakespeare with his first bass and his fine range, to Tennyson with his second bass and his occasional falsetto, to Milton and Malowe, bassos profundo.  I gave ear to Browning chatting, Byron declaiming, and Wordsworth droning.  This, at least, did me no harm.  I learned a little of beauty—enough to know that it had nothing to do with truth—and I found, moreover, that there was no great literary tradition; there was only the tradition of the eventful death of every literary tradition …”
—Maury in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Beautiful and Damned (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1922)

“And so I turned, canny for my years, from the professors to the poets, listening—to the lyric tenor of Swinburne and the tenor robusto of Shelley, to Shakespeare with his first bass and his fine range, to Tennyson with his second bass and his occasional falsetto, to Milton and Malowe, bassos profundo.  I gave ear to Browning chatting, Byron declaiming, and Wordsworth droning.  This, at least, did me no harm.  I learned a little of beauty—enough to know that it had nothing to do with truth—and I found, moreover, that there was no great literary tradition; there was only the tradition of the eventful death of every literary tradition …”

—Maury in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Beautiful and Damned (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1922)

In the end, we self-perceiving, self-inventing, locked-in mirages are little miracles of self-reference.

—Douglas R. Hofstadter, I Am a Strange Loop (via mythologyofblue)

Nº. 1 of  6