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I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.
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-tomorrow is our permanent address and there they’ll scarcely find us(if they do, we’ll move away still further:into now
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Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.
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At least the Pilgrim Fathers used to shoot Indians: the Pilgrim Children merely punch time clocks.
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To like an individual because he's black is just as insulting as to dislike him because he isn't white.
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Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.
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Damn everything but the circus! ...damn everything that is grim, dull, motionless, unrisking, inward turning, damn everything that won't get into the circle, that won't enjoy. That won't throw it's heart into the tension, surprise, fear and delight of the circus, the round world, the full existence.
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...losing through you what seemed myself, i find selves unimaginably mine; beyond sorrow's own joys and hopings very fears yours is the light by which my spirit's born: yours is the darkness of my soul's return... you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
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i remember we all cried like the Missouri when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because somebody pressed a button (and down went my uncle Sol and started a worm farm)
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I imagine that yes is the only living thing.
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And still the mad magnificent herald Spring assembles beauty from forgetfulness with the wild trump of April:witchery of sound and odour drives the wingless thing man forth in the bright air.
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The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.
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...remember one thing only: that it's you-nobody else-who determines your destiny and decides your fate. Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.
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America makes prodigious mistakes, America has colossal faults, but one thing cannot be denied: America is always on the move. She may be going to Hell, of course, but at least she isn't standing still.
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I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach 10,000 stars how not to dance.
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It is with roses and locomotives (not to mention acrobats Spring electricity Coney Island the 4th of July the eyes of mice and Niagara Falls) that my poems are competing.
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You have played, (I think) And broke the toys you were fondest of, And are a little tired now; Tired of things that break, and— Just tired. So am I.
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all by all and deep by deep and more by more they dream their sleep noone and anyone earth by april wish by spirit and if by yes
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A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.
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The hardest fight a man has to fight is to live in a world where every single day someone is trying to make you someone you do not want to be--
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It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
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a poet is someone who is abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement. Which is to say the highest form of concentration possible: fascination; to report on the electrifying experience of being
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Whenever you think or you believe or you know, you're a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you're nobody-but-yourself.
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The hardest challenge is to be yourself in a world where everyone is trying to make you be somebody else.