I am, a shadowthat grows longer as the sunmoves, drawn outon a thread of wonder. If I bear burdensthey begin to be rememberedas gifts, goods, a basketof bread that hurtsmy shoulders but closes mein fragrance. I caneat as I go. ("Stepping Westward")
I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.
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Pablo Neruda
It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.
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Virginia Woolf
Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!
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Edwin Arnold
The true poem rests between the words.
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Vanna Bonta
Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.
-
Mark Strand
More Quotes By Denise Levertov
Yes, he is here in thisopen field, in sunlight, amongthe few young trees set outto modify the bare facts--he's here, but onlybecause we are here. When we go, he goes with usto be your hands that neverdo violence, your eyesthat wonder, your livesthat daily praise...
In the dark I rest, unready for the light which dawnsday after day, eager to be shared. Black silk, shelter me. I needmore of the night before I openeyes and heartto illumination. I must stillgrow in the dark like a rootnot ready, not ready at...
There's in my mind a...turbulent moon-ridden girlor old woman, or both, dressed in opals and rags, feathersand torn taffeta, who knows strange songsbut she is not kind.
Two girls discover the secret of lifein a sudden line of poetry.
But for us the road unfurls itself, we don't stop walking, we know there is far to go.
