The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.
What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.
If we look long enough and hard enough ... we will begin to see the connections that bind us together, and when we recognize those connections, we will begin to change the world.
What three things can never be done? / Forget. Keep silent. Stand alone
Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings. Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest. The blessing is in the seed.
My lifetime listens to yours.
Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry.
However confused the scene of our life appears, however torn we may be who now do face that scene, it can be faced, and we can go on to be whole.
A world is to be fought for, sung, and built: Love must imagine the world.
The world is not made of molecules, the world is made of stories.
As we live our truths, we will communicate across all barriers, speaking for the sources of peace. Peace that is not lack of war, but fierce and positive.
Exchange is creation.
Poetry is, above all, an approach to the truth of feeling. A fine poem will seize your imagination intellectually - that is, when you reach it, you will reach it intellectually too - but the way is through emotion, through what we call feeling.
The journey is my home.
Always our wars have been our confessions of weakness
The universe of poetry is the universe of emotional truth. Our material is in the way we feel and the way we remember.
Reality is the completion of experience.
The process of writing a poem represents work done on the self of the poet, in order to make form.
In time of crisis, we summon up our strength. Then, if we are lucky, we are able to call every resource, every forgotten image that can leap to our quickening, every memory that can make us know our power. And this luck is more than it seems to be: it depends on the long preparation of the self to be used.
If there were no poetry on any day in the world, poetry would be invented that day. For there would be an intolerable hunger.
One writes in order to feel.
Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest.
Dreams are the sources of action, the meeting and the end, a resting place among the flight of things.
No one wants to read poetry. You have to make it impossible for them to put the poem down--impossible for them to stop reading it, word after word. You have to keep them from closing the book.
Poetry is, above all, an approach to the truth of feeling.
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