Theodore Roethke Quotes
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All finite things reveal infinitude: The mountain with its singular bright shade Like the blue shine on freshly frozen snow, The after-light upon ice-burdened pines; Odor of basswood upon a mountain slope, A scene beloved of bees; Silence of water above a sunken tree: The pure serene of memory of one man,- A ripple widening from a single stone Winding around the waters of the world.
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All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.
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What is desire? The impulse to make someone else complete? That woman would set sodden straw on fire.
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In this place of light: he dares to live Who stops being a bird, yet beats his wings Against the immense immeasurable emptiness of things.
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In a dark time, the eye begins to see I meet my shadow in the deepening shade...Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
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Fear was my father, Father Fear. His look drained the stones.
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I lose and find myself in the long water. I am gathered together once more.
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The self says, I am; The heart says, I am less; The spirit says, you are Nothing.
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Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.
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Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.
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Beginnings start without shade,Thinner than minnows.The live grass whirls with the sun,Feet run over the simple stones,There's time enough.Behold, in the lout's eye, love.
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I came to love, I came into my own.
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Should we say the self, once perceived, becomes the soul?
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In a dark time, the mind begins to see.
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Teach as an old fishing guide takes out a beginner.
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What's important? That which is dug out of books, or out of the guts?
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I teach my sighs to lengthen into songs.
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I bleed my bones, their marrow to bestowUpon that God who knows what I would know.
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I long for the imperishable quiet at the heart of form.
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Those who are willing to be vulnerable move among mysteries.
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The damage of teaching: the constant contact with the undeveloped.
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We think by feeling. What is there to know?
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What have I done, dear God, to deserve this perpetual feeling that I'm almost ready to begin something really new?
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I can't go on flying apart just for those who want the benefit of a few verbal kicks. My God, do you know what poems like that cost? They're not written vicariously: they come out of actual suffering, real madness.