Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.
My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return.
I am not going to claim that modern anarchism has any direct relation to Roman jurisprudence; but I do claim that it has its basis in the laws of nature rather than in the state of nature.
A weed is no more than a flower in disguise, Which is seen through at once, if love give a man eyes.
I don't see that a single line can constitute a stanza, although it can constitute a whole poem.
The form of my poem rises out of a past that so overwhelms the present with its worth and vision that I'm at a loss to explain my delusion that there exist any real links between that past and a future worthy of it.
If you don't like The Ramones, you don't like rock 'n'roll. They're like The Beach Boys without the sea.
Now that the House of Commons is trying to become useful, it does a great deal of harm.
One of the things women poets have been engaged in - among the other things they've been doing - is revising parts of the poetic self. Re-examining notions of the authority within the poem, and of the poem.
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
In the writing of poetry we never know anything for sure. We will never know if we have 'trained' or 'practised' enough. We will never be able to say that we have reached grade eight, or that we have left the grades behind and are now embarked on an advanced training.
The French-Cajun culture is similar to mine - they're Catholic, they play accordions, and they eat hot chiles.
I learned that life will go through changes - up and down and up again. It's what life does.
I'm just someone who likes cooking and for whom sharing food is a form of expression.
To different minds, poetry may present different phases. To me, the reverent faith of the people I lived among, and their faithful everyday living, was poetry; blossoms and trees and blue shies were poetry. God himself was poetry.
Black writers, of whatever quality, who step outside the pale of what black writers are supposed to write about, or who black writers are supposed to be, are condemned to silences in black literary circles that are as total and as destructive as any imposed by racism.
Labor is the fabled magician's wand, the philosophers stone, and the cap of good fortune.
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