We were together. I forget the rest.— Walt Whitman
Strong Love Poetry quotations
Even after all this time, the sun never says to the earth, 'you owe me.
' Look what happens with a love like that! It lights up the whole sky.
Don’t you love the Oxford Dictionary? When I first read it, I thought it was a really really long poem about everything.
Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a warmth and a richness to life that nothing else can bring.
Love in the Arab world is like a prisoner, and I want to set (it) free.
I want to free the Arab soul, sense and body with my poetry. The relationships between men and women in our society are not healthy.
What is Music? How do you define it? Music is a calm moonlit night, the rustle of leaves in Summer. Music is the far off peal of bells at dusk! Music comes straight from the heart and talks only to the heart: it is Love! Music is the Sister of Poetry and her Mother is sorrow!
To be wild is not to be crazy or psychotic.
True wildness is a love of nature, a delight in silence, a voice free to say spontaneous things, and an exuberant curiosity in the face of the unknown.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.
I give you my hand, I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself?
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love
Neither poetry, nor ambition, nor love have any alertness of countenance as they pass by me.
For every poet it is always morning in the world;
history a forgotten, insomniac night. The fate of poetry is to fall in love with the world in spite of history.
You are a Universe of Universes And your Soul a source of Songs.
One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
Watch out for intellect, because it knows so much it knows nothing and leaves you hanging upside down, mouthing knowledge as your heart falls out of your mouth.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
In a way I spend my entire life stealing from everything - from the past, from cities I love, from where I grew up - grabbing things, taking not only from architecture but from Italy, art, writing, poetry, music.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep but I have promises to keep...
It is a great feeling to know that from a window I can go to books to cans of beer to past loves. And from these gather enough dream to sneak out a back door.
My true love hath my heart, and I have his
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart I carry your heart [ i carry it in my heart ]
From the poetry of Lord Byron they drew a system of ethics compounded of misanthropy and voluptuousness,-a system in which the two great commandments were to hate your neighbour and to love your neighbour's wife.
Will you love me in December as you do in May, Will you love me in the good old fashioned way? When my hair has all turned gray, Will you kiss me then and say, That you love me in December as you do in May?
Remember, writing poetry is like making love: one will never know whether one's own pleasure is shared.
You make a right on L, make a left on O, come to a green light and that's when you can go. You keep straight on V, until you come to E, that's when you see a big sign that say's welcome to Love Street.
I have so much of you in my heart.
What you have to realize when you write poetry, or if you love poetry, is that poetry is just naturally the greatest god damn thing that ever was in the whole universe
Love itself is what is left over when being "in love" has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
I don't know a better preparation for life than a love of poetry and a good digestion.
The same people who are murdered slowly in the mechanized slaughterhouses of work are also arguing, singing, drinking, dancing, making love, holding the streets, picking up weapons and inventing a new poetry.
Pure poetry in motion. A swift-moving, heartfelt tale of love and loss, two stories intersecting-an d connecting-by magic. Michelle Baker is a born poet, and a born writer. The Canoe is just the start of what I hope to be a long idyllic journey through the love and soul of the human heart.
I am in the middle of it: chaos and poetry;
poetry and love and again, complete chaos. Pain, disorder, occasional clarity; and at the bottom of it all: only love; poetry. Sheer enchantment, fear, humiliation. It all comes with love
Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!