Kay Ryan Quotes
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The day misspent, the love misplaced, has inside it the seed of redemption. Nothing is exempt from resurrection.
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I enjoy an accumulating faith in weak forces - a weak faith, of course, easily shaken, but also easily regained - in what starts to drift: all the slow untrainings of the mind, the sift left of resolve sustained too long, the strange internal shift by which there's no knowing if this is the raod taken or untaken. There are soft affinities, possibly electrical; lint-like congeries; moonlit hints; asymmetrical pink glowy spots that are no the defeat of something, I don't think.
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A too closely watched flower blossoms the wrong color. Excess attention to the jonquil turns it gentian. Flowers need it tranquil to get their hues right. Some only open at midnight.
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Too much rain loosens trees. In the hills giant oaks fall upon their knees. You can touch parts you have no right to — places only birds should fly to.
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I don't think any poetry is written that isn't primarily written to the self, in a way... I'm always talking to myself. But I seem to want somebody else to listen to it. I need, I do want an audience. So it's a strange thing. It's a very private conversation that then, you make public, kind of, like, the starfish flipping its stomach out.
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As for reality, I don't even have any interest in that word.
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Action creates a taste for itself.