141 Inspiring Poem Quotes

Poetry has an unparalleled ability to evoke emotions, inspire change, and provide comfort. Whether it's the rhythmic dance of words or the profound imagery they conjure, poems have been a source of inspiration for centuries. Our curated collection of the top 141 inspiring poem quotes is a celebration of this timeless art form, bringing together lines from classic poets and contemporary voices alike. These quotes capture the essence of human experience, offering insights, wisdom, and a spark of inspiration for every reader. Dive in and let the power of poetry uplift your spirit and ignite your imagination.

1. “Poems are never finished - just abandoned” - Paul Valery

2. “An orphans curse would drag to hellA spirit from on high;But oh! How more horrible that thatIs the curse in a dead man’s eye!” - Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth

3. “I once broke up with a boy because he wrote me an awful poem.” - Karen Joy Fowler

4. “J'aime la folle cruauté des chimères qu'on apprivoise.” - Théophile Gautier

5. “So here is my story, may it bringSome smiles and a tear or so,It happened once upon a time,Far away, and long ago,Outside the night wind keens and wails,Come listen to me, the Teller of Tales!” - Brian Jacques

6. “Journey’s endIn western lands beneath the SunThe flowers may rise in Spring,The trees may bud, the waters run,The merry finches sing.Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night,And swaying branches bearThe Elven-stars as jewels whiteAmid their branching hair.Though here at journey's end I lieIn darkness buried deep,Beyond all towers strong and high,Beyond all mountains steep,Above all shadows rides the SunAnd Stars for ever dwell:I will not say the Day is done,Nor bid the Stars farewell.J.” - J.R.R. Tolkien

7. “Roads Go Ever OnRoads go ever ever on,Over rock and under tree,By caves where never sun has shone,By streams that never find the sea;Over snow by winter sown,And through the merry flowers of June,Over grass and over stone,And under mountains in the moon.Roads go ever ever on,Under cloud and under star.Yet feet that wandering have goneTurn at last to home afar.Eyes that fire and sword have seen,And horror in the halls of stoneLook at last on meadows green,And trees and hills they long have known.The Road goes ever on and onDown from the door where it began.Now far ahead the Road has gone,And I must follow, if I can,Pursuing it with eager feet,Until it joins some larger way,Where many paths and errands meet.The Road goes ever on and onDown from the door where it began.Now far ahead the Road has gone,And I must follow, if I can,Pursuing it with weary feet,Until it joins some larger way,Where many paths and errands meet.And whither then? I cannot say.The Road goes ever on and onOut from the door where it began.Now far ahead the Road has gone.Let others follow, if they can!Let them a journey new begin.But I at last with weary feetWill turn towards the lighted inn,My evening-rest and sleep to meet.” - J.R.R. Tolkien

8. “My country, 'tis of thee,Sweet land of liberty,Of thee I sing;Land where my fathers died,Land of the pilgrims' pride,From every mountainsideLet freedom ring!My native country, thee,Land of the noble free,Thy name I love;I love thy rocks and rills,Thy woods and templed hills;My heart with rapture thrills,Like that above.Let music swell the breeze,And ring from all the treesSweet freedom's song;Let mortal tongues awake;Let all that breathe partake;Let rocks their silence break,The sound prolong.Our father's God to Thee,Author of liberty,To Thee we sing.Long may our land be bright,With freedom's holy light,Protect us by Thy might,Great God our King.” - Samuel Francis Smith

9. “And the poem, I think, is only your voice speaking.” - Virginia Woolf

10. “اشک رازیستلبخند رازیستعشق رازیستاشک آن شب لبخند عشقم بودقصه نیستم که بگویینغمه نیستم که بخوانیصدا نیستم که بشنوییا چیزی چنان که ببینییا چیزی که چنان بدانی...من درد مشترکممرا فریاد کن.” - شاملو

11. “I am not wrong: Wrong is not my nameMy name is my own my own my ownand I can’t tell you who the hell set things up like thisbut I can tell you that from now on my resistancemy simple and daily and nightly self-determinationmay very well cost you your life” - June Jordan

12. “His gaze, bluntedby the unnumbered processionof iron bars, uncountedas his softly padded steps.Smooth motion of blood and sinewturning in its own, small circleprescribed by bars and walls...and skin, confined.Suddenly, without warning,a flash of light and imagepierces the caged brain,and passing through its beating heartto stillness finds its way. ” - Rilke Rainer Maria

13. “Sundays too my father got up earlyand put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that achedfrom labor in the weekday weather madebanked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.When the rooms were warm, he'd call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the coldand polished my good shoes as well.What did I know, what did I knowof love's austere and lonely offices?” - Robert Hayden

14. “A Woman's QuestionDo you know you have asked for the costliest thingEver made by the Hand above?A woman's heart, and a woman's life---And a woman's wonderful love.Do you know you have asked for this priceless thingAs a child might ask for a toy?Demanding what others have died to win,With a reckless dash of boy.You have written my lesson of duty out,Manlike, you have questioned me.Now stand at the bars of my woman's soulUntil I shall question thee.You require your mutton shall always be hot,Your socks and your shirt be whole;I require your heart be true as God's starsAnd as pure as His heaven your soul.You require a cook for your mutton and beef,I require a far greater thing;A seamstress you're wanting for socks and shirts---I look for a man and a king.A king for the beautiful realm called Home,And a man that his Maker, God,Shall look upon as He did on the firstAnd say: "It is very good."I am fair and young, but the rose may fadeFrom this soft young cheek one day;Will you love me then 'mid the falling leaves,As you did 'mong the blossoms of May?Is your heart an ocean so strong and true,I may launch my all on its tide?A loving woman finds heaven or hellOn the day she is made a bride.I require all things that are grand and true,All things that a man should be;If you give this all, I would stake my lifeTo be all you demand of me.If you cannot be this, a laundress and cookYou can hire and little to pay;But a woman's heart and a woman's lifeAre not to be won that way.” - Joshua Harris

15. “Remember me when I am deadand simplify me when I'm dead.” - Keith Douglas

16. “THE POEMS OF OUR CLIMATEIClear water in a brilliant bowl, Pink and white carnations. The lightIn the room more like a snowy air, Reflecting snow. A newly-fallen snowAt the end of winter when afternoons return.Pink and white carnations - one desiresSo much more than that. The day itselfIs simplified: a bowl of white, Cold, a cold porcelain, low and round,With nothing more than the carnations there.IISay even that this complete simplicityStripped one of all one's torments, concealedThe evilly compounded, vital IAnd made it fresh in a world of white,A world of clear water, brilliant-edged,Still one would want more, one would need more,More than a world of white and snowy scents.IIIThere would still remain the never-resting mind,So that one would want to escape, come backTo what had been so long composed.The imperfect is our paradise.Note that, in this bitterness, delight,Since the imperfect is so hot in us,Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds.” - Wallace Stevens

17. “Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poemAnd he called it "Chops" because that was the name of his dogAnd that's what it was all aboutAnd his teacher gave him an A and a gold starAnd his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his auntsThat was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zooAnd he let them sing on the busAnd his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hairAnd his mother and father kissed a lotAnd the girl around the corner sent him aValentine signed with a row of X's and he had to ask his father what the X's meantAnd his father always tucked him in bed at nightAnd was always there to do itOnce on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poemAnd he called it "Autumn" because that was the name of the seasonAnd that's what it was all aboutAnd his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearlyAnd his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paintAnd the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigarsAnd left butts on the pewsAnd sometimes they would burn holesThat was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black framesAnd the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa ClausAnd the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lotAnd his father never tucked him in bed at nightAnd his father got mad when he cried for him to do it.Once on a paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poemAnd he called it "Innocence: A Question" because that was the question about his girlAnd that's what it was all aboutAnd his professor gave him an A and a strange steady lookAnd his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed herThat was the year that Father Tracy diedAnd he forgot how the end of the Apostle's Creed wentAnd he caught his sister making out on the back porchAnd his mother and father never kissed or even talkedAnd the girl around the corner wore too much makeupThat made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to doAnd at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed his father snoring soundlyThat's why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poemAnd he called it "Absolutely Nothing"Because that's what it was really all aboutAnd he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wristAnd he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn't think he could reach the kitchen.” - Stephen Chbosky

18. “With the need for the self in the time of another / I left my seaport grim and dear / knowing good work could be made / in the state governed by both Hope and Despair.” - Roman Payne

19. “Twas the night before Thanksgiving. All the food's in the oven. And I'm in the bedroom performin' self lovin'.” - Craig Ferguson

20. “اذا كنت ذا رأي فكن ذا عزيمه .. فان فساد الرأي ترددا” - عائض بن عبد الله القرني

21. “Every poem is an infant labored into birth and I am drenched with sweating effort, tired from the pain and hurt of being a man, in the poem I transform myself into a woman.” - Jimmy Santiago Baca

22. “I heard of a manwho says words so beautifullythat if he only speaks their namewomen give themselves to him.If I am dumb beside your bodywhile silence blossoms like tumors on our lipsit is because I hear a man climb stairsand clear his throat outside our door.” - Leonard Cohen

23. “People need people and the happiest people aresurrounded with friendly flesh.If you have ten kids they'll be so sweet --ten really sweet kids! Have twelve!What if there were 48 pro baseball teams,you could see a damn lot more games!And in this fashion we get awayfrom tragedy. Because tragedy comes when someone gets too special. ” - Mark Halliday

24. “I've triedto become someone else for a while,only to discover that he, too, was me.” - Stephen Dunn

25. “You sit at the edge of the world,I am in a crater that's no more.Words without lettersStanding in the shadow of the door.The moon shines down on a sleeping lizard,Little fish rain from the sky.Outside the window there are soldiers,steeling themselves to die.(Refrain)Kafka sits in a chair by the shore,Thinking for the pendulum that moves the world, it seems.When your heart is closed,The shadow of the unmoving Sphinx,Becomes a knife that pierces your dreams.The drowning girl's fingersSearch for the entrance stone, and more.Lifting the hem of her azure dress,She gazes --at Kafka on the shore” - Haruki Murakami

26. “ما دستخوش سبحه و زنار نگشتيمدر حلقه ى تقليد گرفتار نگشتيمخود را به سراپرده ى خورشيد رسانديمچون شبنم گل، بار به گلزار نگشتيمدر دامن خود پاى فشرديم چو مركزگرد سر هر نقطه چو پرگار نگشتيمچون خشت نهاديم به پاى خم مى سربر دوش كسى همچو سبو بار نگشتيمما را به زر قلب خريدند ز اخوانبر قافله از قيمت كم، بار نگشتيمچون يوسف تهمت زده، از پاكى دامندر چشم عزيزان جهان، خوار نگشتيمصد شكر كه با صد دهن شكوه درين بزمشرمنده ى بيتابى اظهار نگشتيمافسوس كه چون نخل خزان ديده درين باغدستى نفشانديم و سبكبار نگشتيمفرياد كه سوهان سبكدست حوادشد ساده ز دندانه و هموار نگشتيمصائب مدد خلق نموديم به همتدرظاهر اگر مالك دينار نگشتيم” - صائب تبريزي

27. “Down, down, down into the darkness of the graveGently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.” - Edna St. Vincent Millay

28. “TO what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.” - Edna St. Vincent Millay

29. “I will never hurt you.I will always help you.If you are hungryIll give you my food.If you are frightenedI am your friend.I love you now.And love does not end.” - Orson Scott Card

30. “Here is a list of terrible things,The jaws of sharks, a vultures wingsThe rabid bite of the dogs of war,The voice of one who went before,But most of all the mirror's gaze,Which counts us out our numbered days.” - Clive Barker

31. “She asks why I like her.Might as well askWhy I breathe.Maybe tomorrow I won'tBreathe or like herAnymore.Maybe tomorrow the tidesWill stop.Maybe tomorrow will bringNo more rainbows.Maybe tomorrowShe will stopAsking useless questions.” - Gail Carson Levine

32. “It is when things are at worst you will get the best.” - Santosh Kalwar

33. “Come sleep with me: We won't make Love, Love will make us.” - Julio Cortazar

34. “ลมหายใจสุดท้ายใกล้จะลับเจียนชีพดับแล้วลาจันทาพี่เราคงต้องร้างไกลในวันนี้ท่วมทุกข์แผดผลาญฤดีให้อาดูรสำลักเลือดร่ำไห้หทัยเศร้าโศกใดเท่าร่างทุรนจนสิ้นสูญแต่ทุกข์แท้เท่าใดไม่เปรียบปูนเจ้าจะพูนเทวษท้นถึงพี่ยาเพียงพีชพรรณเขาพรากให้จากน้ำนทีต่ำเหือดแห้งแล้งวัสสาพี่เหือดแห้งแล้งใจยิ่งใดมาเพราะรู้ว่าจันทาระทมใจเช่นฝนพรำพรมพนาไม่ราร้างสุชลพร่างพรมพักตร์ไม่หักหายโศกของพี่ครั้งนี้ยิ่่งกว่าโศกใดเพราะเจ้าทุกข์ระทมใจถึงพี่ยา” - Srisurang

35. “What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.” - Walt Whitman

36. “I had forgotten. Disgust shadows desire.Another life is never safely envied.” - Robert Wells

37. “There are so many things to say; so many things that can't really be said. So much has happened; so little has changed. We have so many words prepared; so many words are too hard to actually say. A few days have passed; this pain has been here for years. We don't know where to go from here; our future has always been in our minds. Moments of peace with those who constantly argue; fights with those that usually bring peace. There are so many things to say; so many things that can't really be said.” - Alysha Speer

38. “Dreams like a podcast,Downloading truth in my ears.They tell me cool stuff.""Apollo?" I guess, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad.He put his finger to his lips. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred.""A god named Fred?” - Rick Riordan

39. “Qui croitPouvoir faire du mielSans partager le destin des abeilles?” - Muriel Barbery

40. “Iron helmets will not save/Even heroes from the grave/Good man's blood will drain away/While the wickid win the day.” - Heinrich Heine

41. “I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.” - Frank O'Hara

42. “As a perfume doth remain In the folds where it hath lain, So the thought of you, remaining Deeply folded in my brain, Will not leave me; all things leave me -You remain. Other thoughts may come and go, Other moments I may know That shall waft me, in their going, As a breath blown to and fro, Fragrant memories; fragrant memories Come and go. Only thoughts of you remain In my heart where they have lain, Perfumed thoughts of you, remaining, A hid sweetness, in my brain. Others leave me; all things leave me -You remain.” - Arthur Symons

43. “Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,O, what a panic's in thy breastie! ” - Robert Burns

44. “Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer.” - Louise Gluck

45. “ONE WORDOne word— one stonein a cold river.One more stone—I'll need many stonesif I'm going to get over.” - Olav H. Hauge

46. “I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.A tree whose hungry mouth is pressedAgainst the earth's sweet flowing breast;A tree that looks at God all dayAnd lifts her leafy arms to pray;A tree that may in summer wearA nest of robins in her hair;Upon whose bosom snow has lain;Who intimately lives with rain.Poems are made by fools like me,But only God can make a tree.” - Joyce Kilmer

47. “What a skeletal wreck of man this is.Translucent flesh and feeble bones,the kind of temple where the whores and villains try to tempt the holistic domes.Running rampid with free thought to free form, and the free and clear.When the matters at hand are shelled out like lint at alaundry mat to sift and focus on the bigger, better, now.We all have a little sin that needs venting,virtues for the rending and laws and systems and stems are rippedfrom the branches of office, do you know where your post entails? Do you serve a purpose, or purposely serve?When in doubt inside your atavistic allure, the value of a summer spent, and a winter earned.For the rest of us, there is always Sunday.The day of the week the reeks of rest, but all we do is catch our breath,so we can wade naked in the bloody pool, and place our hand on the big, black book.To watch the knives zigzag between our aching fingers.A vacation is a countdown, T minus your life andcounting, time to drag your tongue across the sugar cube,and hope you get a taste.WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL THIS FOR?WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON? SHUT UP!I can go on and on but lets move on, shall we?Say, your me, and I’m you, and they all watch the things we do,and like a smack of spite they threw me down the stairs,haven’t felt like this in years.The great magnet of malicious magnanimous refuse, let me go,and punch me into the dead spout again.That’s where you go when there’s no one else around,it’s just you, and there was never anyone to begin with, now was there?Sanctimonious pretentious dastardly bastards with their thumb on the pulse,and a finger on the trigger.CLASSIFIED MY ASS! THAT’S A FUCKING SECRET, AND YOU KNOW IT!Government is another way to say better…than…you.It’s like ice but no pick, a murder charge that won’t stick,it’s like a whole other world where you can smell the food,but you can’t touch the silverware.Huh, what luck. Fascism you can vote for.Humph, isn’t that sweet?And we’re all gonna die some day, because that’s the American way,and I’ve drunk too much, and said too little,when your gaffer taped in themiddle, say a prayer, say a face, get your self together and see what’s happening.SHUT UP! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!I’m sorry, I could go on and on buttheir times to move on so, remember: you’re a wreck, an accident.Forget the freak, your just nature.Keep the gun oiled, and the temple cleaned shit snort,and blaspheme, let the heads cool, and the engine run.Because in the end, everything we do, is just everything we’ve done.” - Stone Sour

48. “Biar! tak kau ingat lampu-lampu yang menyihir kita menjadi orang yang mentertawakan dunia. tak kau ingat keringat meleleh di langkah kaki, di punggung, kening, menantang matahari! menunggingkan pantat ke muka-muka orang-orang yang dipuja sebagai dewa! o, engkau telah membunuh kenangan demikian cepat. seperti kulindas kecoak dengan ujung sepatuku. perutnya yang memburai, putih, mata yang keluar dari kepala, masih bergerak-gerak. aku menjadi pembunuh. seperti dirimu. demikian telengas. tanpa belas. kepada kenangan. biar. jika kau tak mau temani. biar kurasakan nyeri sendiri. di puncak sepiku sendiri!” - Nanang Suryadi

49. “DAISIESIt is possible, I suppose that sometimewe will learn everythingthere is to learn: what the world is, for example,and what it means. I think this as I am crossingfrom one field to another, in summer, and themockingbird is mocking me, as one who eitherknows enough already or knows enough to beperfectly content not knowing. Song being bornof quest he knows this: he must turn silentwere he suddenly assaulted with answers. Insteadoh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselesslyunanswered. At my feet the white-petalled daisies displaythe small suns of their center piece, their -- if you don'tmind my saying so -- their hearts. Of courseI could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale andnarrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know?But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly;for example -- I think thisas I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch --the suitability of the field for the daisies, and thedaisies for the field.” - Mary Oliver

50. “be it peace or happinesslet it enfold you” - Charles Bukowski

51. “When Great Trees FallWhen great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety.When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear.When great souls die,the air around us becomeslight, rare, sterile.We breathe, briefly.Our eyes, briefly,see witha hurtful clarity.Our memory, suddenly sharpened,examines,gnaws on kind wordsunsaid,promised walksnever taken.Great souls die andour reality, bound tothem, takes leave of us.Our souls,dependent upon theirnurture,now shrink, wizened.Our minds, formedand informed by theirradiance,fall away.We are not so much maddenedas reduced to the unutterable ignoranceof dark, coldcaves.And when great souls die,after a period peace blooms,slowly and alwaysirregularly. Spaces fillwith a kind ofsoothing electric vibration.Our senses, restored, neverto be the same, whisper to us.They existed. They existed.We can be. Be and bebetter. For they existed.” - Maya Angelou

52. “Fox-TrotBy the stream the fox and she-fox stoodNose to nose beneath the starsDancing the music of the woods.The deer rapped a beat with their hooves,The ravens sang from raven heartsAs by the stream the fox and she-fox stood.The great owl called as a great owl would,The squirrels all shimmied in the dark,Dancing the music of the woods.Then from the north a fierce wind blewAnd broke the starry dance apartBy the stream where the fox and she-fox stood.” - Beth Kephart

53. “tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play— I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend.” - Oscar Wilde

54. “أني اجدد يوما مضى لأحبك يوما و أمضي” - محمود درويش

55. “It's just me throwing myself at you,romance as usual, us times us,not lust but moxibustion,a substance burning closeto the body as possiblewithout risk of immolation.” - Alice Fulton

56. “Be there a picnic for the devil,an orgy for the satyr,and a wedding for the bride.” - Roman Payne

57. “Going down in history is a dead end pursuit” - Benny Bellamacina

58. “The little boy was looking for his voice.(The king of the crickets had it.)In a drop of waterthe little boy was looking for his voice.I do not want it for speaking with;I will make a ring of itso that he may wear my silenceon his little fingerIn a drop of waterthe little boy was looking for his voice.(The captive voice, far away,put on a cricket's clothes.)- The Little Mute BoyTranslated by William S. Merwin” - Federico García-Lorca

59. “Sing a song of suspense in which the players die.Four and twenty ravens in an Edgar Allan Pie.When the pie was broken, the ravens couldn't sing.Their throats had been sliced open by Stephen, the new King.The King was in his writing house, stifling a laughWhile his queen was in a tizzy of her bloody Lovecraft.When the dead maid got the garden for her rank as royal whore,King's shovel made it double and he married nevermore.” - Jessica McHugh

60. “Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.” - Mark Strand

61. “ink marks the page/where you execute your will like a doe announcing an/ox-stern mate with a single, bleary blink.” - Melissa Lee-Houghton

62. “I do not write to you, but of you,/because the paper that we write on/is our perishable skin.” - Melissa Lee-Houghton

63. “I am 15 and you are 51, I know you are the best, to be loved by, everyone.” - Santosh Kalwar

64. “I desired to praise the Chosen One and was hinderedBy my own inability to grasp the extent of his glory.How can one such as I measure an ocean, when the ocean is vast?And how can one such as I count the stones and the stars?If all of my limbs were to become tongues, even then –Even then I could not begin to praise him as I desired.And if all of creation gathered together in an attemptTo praise him, even then they would stint in his due.I have altogether ceased trying – awestruck, clinging to courtesy,Tempered by timidity, glorifying his most exalted rank.Indeed, sometimes silence holds within it the essence of eloquence,And often speech merely fodder for the faultfinder.” - Ibn Juzayy al-Kalbi

65. “[The Old Astronomer to His Pupil]Reach me down my Tycho Brahe, I would know him when we meet,When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of howWe are working to completion, working on from then to now.Pray remember that I leave you all my theory complete,Lacking only certain data for your adding, as is meet,And remember men will scorn it, 'tis original and true,And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,What for us are all distractions of men's fellowship and smiles;What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles.You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant's fate.Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.You 'have none but me,' you murmur, and I 'leave you quite alone'?Well then, kiss me, -- since my mother left her blessing on my brow,There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;I can dimly comprehend it, -- that I might have been more kind,Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.I 'have never failed in kindness'? No, we lived too high for strife,--Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you stillTo the service of our science: you will further it? you will!There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;And remember, 'Patience, Patience,' is the watchword of a sage,Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.I have sown, like Tycho Brahe, that a greater man may reap;But if none should do my reaping, 'twill disturb me in my sleepSo be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,--God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.” - Sarah Williams

66. “This is for you, all the women of the worldThose who lived, all who ever willthis is for your love, mine is yoursLove is fate, I am hereBecause you know the meaning of lifeThat begins and ends with a kissWe are knights in shining ardor, who toil for youAnd our children, it's a circleSo they will know this truthLove is the sacred gospel, all we need to knowAs your son and lover, my spirit lives imbuedWith, from and by your wisdom and beautyI am here to pay honor and homage to your soulThis is and will always be my devotionThis I dedicate, because through you I become whole” - Trevor McShane

67. “قلبي في المساءعندما يأتي المساء تسمع صيحات الخفافيش.حصانان أسودان مقيدان في المرعى،القيقب الأحمر يحدث حفيفاً،الشخص الذي يمشي على طول الطريق يرى أمامه حانة صغيرة.البندق والخمر الجديدة لهما طعم لذيذ،لذيذ: ترنح السكران في الغابة الداجية.أجراس القرية، مؤلم سماعها، يتردد صداها عبر أغصانالتنوب السوداء،ندىً يتشكل على الوجه” - Georg Trakl

68. “Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.We laughed, — knowing that better men would come,And greater wars: when each proud fighter bragsHe wars on Death, for lives; not men, for flags.” - Wilfred Owen

69. “Mark but this flea, and mark in this, How little that which thou deniest me is; Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea our two bloods mingled be; Thou know’st that this cannot be said A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead, Yet this enjoys before it woo, And pampered swells with one blood made of two, And this, alas, is more than we would do. Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare, Where we almost, nay more than married are. This flea is you and I, and this Our mariage bed and mariage temple is; Though parents grudge, and you, we are met, And cloisterd in these living walls of jet. Though use make you apt to kill me, Let not to that, self-murder added be, And sacrilege, three sins in killing three. Cruel and sudden, hast thou since Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence? Wherein could this flea guilty be, Except in that drop which it sucked from thee? Yet thou triumph’st, and say'st that thou Find’st not thy self, nor me the weaker now; ’Tis true; then learn how false, fears be: Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me, Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.” - John Donne

70. “The dividing line forms-fashioned from:Dragon's tearsMissed yearsOvercome fearsThe fire and ice paradoxSeen with True SightDarkness does not always equate to evilLight does not always bring good” - P.C. Cast

71. “Such a small, pure object a poem could be, made of nothing but air a tiny string of letters, maybe small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. But it could blow everybody's head off.” - Mary Karr

72. “an English girl might well believethat time is how you spend your love.” - Nick Laird

73. “Everyone should be forcibly transplanted to another continent from their family at the age of three.” - Philip Larkin

74. “I notice you have the assault proof vest -So it's my fault I guess.So apparently I didn't say 'no' as loud as my clothes could say 'yes.'You see I didn't know that my ‘no’ wasn't enough -I didn't understand that my body became less precious because certain dresses make me look hot.And I guess if I'm wearing the wrong topthen my ‘yes’ is the same as ‘stop.’And you shouldn't have to, just because I begged you to.I'm begging you -Tell me the magic outfit and I'll buy it.Apparently my ‘no’ wasn't heard,even when I screamed.So I need my clothes to be quiet.” - Connell, Steve

75. “Look, do you see that poem?' she said suddenly, pointing.” - L.M. Montgomery

76. “Since ever the world was spinningAnd till the world shall endYou've your man in the beginningOr you have him in the end,But to have him from start to finishAnd neither nor borrow nor lendIs what all of the girls are wantingAnd none of the gods can send” - L.M. Montgomery

77. “If I wrote the word flower,would it still grow like a flower?If I wrote a poem concerning a river,would the water still flow in the eyes of the reader?” - Zakariya Amataya

78. “Gle malu voćku poslije kiše:Puna je kapi pa ih njiše.I bliješti suncem obasjana,Čudesna raskoš njenih grana.Al nek se sunce malko skrije,Nestane sve te čarolije.Ona je opet kao prvo,Obično, jadno, malo drvo.” - Dobriša Cesarić

79. “when I am feelinglowall i have to do iswatch my catsand mycouragereturns” - Charles Bukowski

80. “America, the plum blossoms are falling.” - Allan Ginsberg

81. “Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these muzzles, these unicorns, these torches, these towers, these martlets, these seedlings of stars and these fields of blue!” - Jean Cocteau

82. “Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!” - Sir Edwin Arnold

83. “I am who I say I am,I'm not some fantasyof how you think you think you knowor who I ought to be.I am a girl who is growing up in my own sweet time,I am a girl who knows enoughto know this life is mine.I am this and I am that andI am everything in-between.I'm a dreamer, I'm a dancer,I'm a part-time drama queen.I'm a worrier, I'm a warrior,I'm a loner and a friend,I'm an outspoken defenderof justice to the end.I'm the girl in the mirror who likes the girl she sees,I'm the girl in the gypsy shawlwith music in her knees.I'm a singer and a scholar,I'm a girl who has been kissed.I'm a solver of equationswearing bangles on my wrist.I am bigger than i ever knew,I am stronger than before,I am every girl I have ever been,and all that are in store.I am who I say I am.I'm not some fantasy.I am the me I am inside.I am whoI choseto be.” - James Howe

84. “If I should have a daughter…“Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.” - Sarah Kay

85. “We will paste upon the curled pages wordsLike charming and romantic and sentimentalForgetting that charming is witchcraftRomantic is loveAnd sentiment is what makes us human” - Emilie Autumn

86. “You ask me why I don't speakNot a word at willBut write so much worth well over a mill'Well I value words like I value kissesA sober one, a closer one penetrates the heartDarling it's how it mends it” - Criss Jami

87. “JARAKdan Adam turun di hutan-hutanmengabur dalam dongengandan kita tiba-tiba di sinitengadah ke langit; kosong sepi” - Sapardi Djoko Damono

88. “Whenever you touch a poem that caresses your soul, breathe it gently for it might be the wind that perfects your life's goal.” - A. Saleh

89. “Nobody really knows herExcept the chosen fewHer secrets are kept hiddenBehind that sun-kissed hue.If I reach out to touch herShe’ll just run awayMy Forever and AlwaysWill have to wait another day.” - Simone Elkeles

90. “Do I, then, belong to the heavens?Why, if not so, should the heavensFix me thus with their ceaseless blue stare,Luring me on, and my mind, higherEver higher, up into the sky,Drawing me ceaselessly upTo heights far, far above the human?Why, when balance has been strictly studiedAnd flight calculated with the best of reasonTill no aberrant element should, by rights, remain-Why, still, should the lust for ascensionSeem, in itself, so close to madness?Nothing is that can satify me;Earthly novelty is too soon dulled;I am drawn higher and higher, more unstable,Closer and closer to the sun's effulgence.Why do these rays of reason destroy me?Villages below and meandering streamsGrow tolerable as our distance grows.Why do they plead, approve, lure meWith promise that I may love the humanIf only it is seen, thus, from afar-Although the goal could never have been love, Nor, had it been, could I ever haveBelonged to the heavens?I have not envied the bird its freedomNor have I longed for the ease of Nature,Driven by naught save this strange yearningFor the higher, and the closer, to plunge myselfInto the deep sky's blue, so contraryTo all organic joys, so farFrom pleasures of superiority But higher, and higher,Dazzled, perhaps, by the dizzy incandescenceOf waxen wings.Or do I then Belong, after all, to the earth?Why, if not so, should the earthShow such swiftness to encompass my fall?Granting no space to think or feel,Why did the soft, indolent earth thusGreet me with the shock of steel plate?Did the soft earth thus turn to steelOnly to show me my own softness?That Nature might bring home to meThat to fall, not to fly, is in the order of things,More natural by far than that improbable passion?Is the blue of the sky then a dream?Was it devised by the earth, to which I belonged,On account of the fleeting, white-hot intoxicationAchieved for a moment by waxen wings?And did the heavens abet the plan to punish me?To punish me for not believing in myself Or for believing too much;Too earger to know where lay my allegianceOr vainly assuming that already I knew all;For wanting to fly offTo the unknownOr the known:Both of them a single, blue speck of an idea?” - Yukio Mishima

91. “Your love taught me to grieveand I have been needing, for centuriesa woman to make me grievefor a woman, to cry upon her armslike a sparrowfor a woman to gather my pieceslike shards of broken crystal” - Nizar Qabbani

92. “The future belongs to all who, refusing to look back at the past move ahead with the clock as it ticks.” - Odo Simon Agbo

93. “Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath,From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud-Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?” - William Knox

94. “I bargained with Life for a penny, and Life would pay no more, However I begged at eveningWhen I counted my scanty store;Life is a just employer. He gives you what you ask,But once you have set the wages,Why, you must bear the task.I worked for a menial's hire,Only to learn, dismayed,That any wage I had asked of Life,Life would have willingly paid” - Jessie B. Rittenhouse

95. “Go and catch a falling star,Get with child a mandrake root,Tell me where all past years are,Or who cleft the Devil's foot,Teach me to hear mermaids singing,Or to keep off envy's stinging, And find What windServes to advance an honest mind.If thou be'st born to strange sights,Things invisible to see,Ride ten thousand days and nights,Till Age snow white hairs on thee,Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,All strange wonders that befell thee, And swear, No whereLives a woman true and fair.” - John Donne

96. “Cheap little rhymesA cheap little tuneAre sometimes as dangerousAs a sliver of the moon.” - Langston Hughes

97. “Variación / Variations"El remanso de airebajo la rama del eco.El remanso del aguabajo fronda de luceros.El remanso de tu bocabajo espesura de besos.*The still waters of the airunder the bough of the echo.The still waters of the waterunder a frond of stars.The still waters of your mouthunder a thicket of kisses.” - Federico García-Lorca

98. “Ben.. Sen...ben seni seviyorum sen gezmeyi, senin hep gittiğin yere ben hiç gidemiyorum. Öylece durmayı seviyorum ben.. Durup ardından bakmayı.. Sen yürümeyi seviyorsun ama arkana bakmadan.. yaprak seviyorum ben yaprak.. Kuru, yaş ayırmadan.. Sen ezmeyi seviyorsun, neye bastığına bakmadan..” - Ceyhun Yılmaz

99. “The Wolf trots to and fro,The world lies deep in snow,The raven from the birch tree flies,But nowhere a hare, nowhere a roe,The roe -she is so dear, so sweet -If such a thing I might surpriseIn my embrace, my teeth would meet,What else is there beneath the skies?The lovely creature I would so treasure,And feast myself deep on her tender thigh,I would drink of her red blood full measure,Then howl till the night went by.Even a hare I would not despise;Sweet enough its warm flesh in the night.Is everything to be deniedThat could make life a little bright?The hair on my brush is getting grey.The sight is failing from my eyes.Years ago my dear mate died.And now I trot and dream of a roe.I trot and dream of a hare.I hear the wind of midnight howl.I cool with the snow my burning jowl,And on to the devil my wretched soul I bear.” - Hermann Hesse

100. “One need never leave the confines of New York to get all the greenery one wishes--I can't even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there's a subway handy, or a record store or some other sign that people do not totally regret life.” - Frank O'Hara

101. “They’re close. Voices loud and fierce, Slapping faces with words. A scream … A cry … They’re getting closer. Did I lock the door? It’s too late to check. They’re coming. I barely move, barely breathe. Perhaps they’ll go away. But they’re getting closer. The door slams against the wall. My eyes squeeze shut. This curtain is not a shield. They’re here. They’ve come for me. I freeze. Metal rings clank together. My barrier is cast aside. Wearily, I look. Reddened eyes glower at one another … But not at me. I wonder. A moment of silence … Water streams down my face. Steam rolls around my flesh. I glare at the intruders And slide the curtain between us. I wait. He shrieks, “She took my glow stick!” She howls, “No, I didn’t!” I scowl. “Go tell your father about it.” They leave. I inhale the lavender mist. Slather bubbles over my skin. Five more minutes … And, next time, I shall lock the door.” - Barbara Brooke

102. “A poem, as a manifestation of language and thus essentially dialogue, can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the –not always greatly hopeful-belief that somewhere and sometime it could wash up on land, on heartland perhaps. Poems in this sense too are under way: they are making toward something. Toward what? Toward something standing open, occupiable, perhaps toward an addressable Thou, toward an addressable reality.” - Paul Celan

103. “I could go on all night, Lake. I could go on and on and on about all the reasons I’m in love with you. And you know what? Some of them are the things that life has thrown our way. I do love you because you’re the only other person I know who understands my situation. I do love you because both of us know what it’s like to lose your mom and your dad. I do love you because you’re raising your little brother, just like I am. I love you because of what you went through with your mother.I love you because of what we went through with your mother. I love the way you love Kel. I love the way you love Caulder. And I love the way I love Kel. So I’m not about to apologize for loving all these things about you, no matter the reasons or the circumstances behind them. And no, I don’t need days, or weeks, or months to think about why I love you. It’s an easy answer for me. I love you because of you. Because of every single thing about you.” - Colleen Hoover

104. “Up the still, glistening beaches,Up the creeks we will hie,Over banks of bright seaweedThe ebb-tide leaves dry.We will gaze, from the sand-hills,At the white, sleeping town;At the church on the hill-side—And then come back down.Singing: "There dwells a loved one,But cruel is she!She left lonely for everThe kings of the sea.(from poem 'The Forsaken Merman')” - Matthew Arnold

105. “Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--Not in lone splendour hung aloft the nightAnd watching, with eternal lids apart,Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,The moving waters at their priestlike taskOf pure ablution round earth's human shores,Or gazing on the new soft-fallen maskOf snow upon the mountains and the moors--No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,And so live ever--or else swoon to death. Glanzvoller Stern! wär ich so stet wie du,Nicht hing ich nachts in einsam stolzer Pracht!SchautŽ nicht mit ewigem Blick beiseite zu,Einsiedler der Natur, auf hoher WachtBeim Priesterwerk der Reinigung, das die See,Die wogende, vollbringt am Meeresstrand;Noch starrt ich auf die Maske, die der SchneeSanft fallend frisch um Berg und Moore band.Nein, doch unwandelbar und unentwegtMöchtŽ ruhn ich an der Liebsten weicher Brust,Zu fühlen, wie es wogend dort sich regt,Zu wachen ewig in unruhiger Lust,Zu lauschen auf des Atems sanftes Wehen -So ewig leben - sonst im Tod vergehen!” - John Keats

106. “SHE is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine; She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine. She has more hair than she needs; In the sun ’tis a woe to me! And her voice is a string of colored beads, Or steps leading into the sea. She loves me all that she can, And her ways to my ways resign; But she was not made for any man, And she never will be all mine.” - Edna St. Vincent Millay

107. “Then a hundred sad voices lifted a wail,And a hundred glad voices piped on the gale:'Time is short, life is short,' they took up the tale: 'Life is sweet, love is sweet, use to-day while you may;Love is sweet, and to-morrow may fail; Love is sweet, use to-day.” - Christina Rossetti

108. “The yellow moon dreamilytipping buttons of lightdown among the leaves. Marimba,marimba - from beyond theblack street.Somebody dancing,somebodygetting the helloutta here. Shadows of catsweave round the treetrunks,the exposed knotty roots.("Scenes from the Life of the Peppertrees")” - Denise Levertov

109. “-A Word On Statistics-Out of every hundred people, those who always know better:fifty-two.Unsure of every step:almost all the rest. Ready to help,if it doesn't take long:forty-nine. Always good,because they cannot be otherwise:fourwell, maybe five. Able to admire without envy:eighteen. Led to errorby youth (which passes):sixty, plus or minus. Those not to be messed with:four-and-forty. Living in constant fearof someone or something:seventy-seven. Capable of happiness:twenty-some-odd at most. Harmless alone,turning savage in crowds:more than half, for sure. Cruelwhen forced by circumstances:it's better not to know,not even approximately. Wise in hindsight:not many morethan wise in foresight. Getting nothing out of life except things:thirty(though I would like to be wrong). Balled up in painand without a flashlight in the dark:eighty-three, sooner or later. Those who are just:quite a few, thirty-five. But if it takes effort to understand:three. Worthy of empathy:ninety-nine. Mortal:one hundred out of one hundreda figure that has never varied yet.” - Wisława Szymborska

110. “I listened long to your story,Listened but could not hear.When you chose to walk that path so overgrown,I remained alone with my fear.Cold silence covers the distance,Stretches from shore to shore.I follow in my mind your far-off journeying,But I will walk that path no more.” - Anne Elisabeth Stengl

111. “I know you can't wash in the same river even onceI know the river will bring new lights that you will not seeI know we live slightly longer than a horse and not nearly as long as a crowI know this has troubled people before and will trouble those after meI know all this has been said a thousand times before and will be said after meI didn't know I like the sky cloudy or clearthe blue vault that Andrei watched on his back on the battlefield at Borodino...” - Nâzım Hikmet

112. “I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.” - Dejan Stojnaovic

113. “blue-gold sky, fresh cloud, emerald-black mountain, trees on rocky ledges, on the summit, the tiny pin of a telephone tower-all brilliantly clear, in shadow and out. and on and through everything everywhere the sun shines without reservation (p. 97)” - Barbara Blatner

114. “I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)” - Barbara Blatner

115. “Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.Parece que los ojos se te hubieran voladoy parece que un beso te cerrara la boca..Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi almaemerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,y te pareces a la palabra melancolía..Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante.Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo.Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:Déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo..Déjame que te hable también con tu silencioclaro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo.Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo..Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente.Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.” - Pablo Neruda "Cien Sonetos de Amor " Soneto xvII

116. “به کجا چنین شتابان؟گون از نسیم پرسید- دل من گرفته زین جاهوس سفر نداریز غبار این بیابان؟- همه آرزویم اماچه کنم که بسته پایم.به کجا چنین شتابان؟- به هر آن کجا که باشدبه جز این سرا، سرایم- سفرت به خیر اما تو و دوستی، خدا راچو از این کویر وحشت به سلامتی گذشتیبه شکوفه‌ها، به بارانبرسان سلام ما را” - محمدرضا شفیعی کدکنی

117. “Hanginiz bilir, benim kadar/ Karpuzdan fener yapmasını" - Orhan Veli.” - Sunay Akın

118. “Your soul: pure glucose edged with hintsOf tentative and half-soiled tints” - Edith Sitwell

119. “Solo For Ear-Trumpet The carriage brushes through the brightLeaves (violent jets from life to light);Strong polished speed is plunging, heavesBetween the showers of bright hot leavesThe window-glasses glaze our facesAnd jar them to the very basis — But they could never put a polishUpon my manners or abolishMy most distinct disinclinationFor calling on a rich relation!In her house — (bulwark built betweenThe life man lives and visions seen) — The sunlight hiccups white as chalk,Grown drunk with emptiness of talk,And silence hisses like a snake — Invertebrate and rattling ache….Then suddenly EternityDrowns all the houses like a seaAnd down the street the Trump of DoomBlares madly — shakes the drawing-roomWhere raw-edged shadows sting forlornAs dank dark nettles. Down the hornOf her ear-trumpet I conveyThe news that 'It is Judgment Day!''Speak louder: I don't catch, my dear.'I roared: 'It is the Trump we hear!''The What?' 'THE TRUMP!' 'I shall complain!…. the boy-scouts practising again.” - Edith Sitwell

120. “All day long you sit and sew,Stitch life down for fear it grow,Stitch life down for fear we guessAt the hidden ugliness.Dusty voice that throbs with heat,Hoping with your steel-thin beatTo put stitches in my mind,Make it tidy, make it kind,You shall not: I'll keep it freeThough you turn earth, sky and seaTo a patchwork quilt to keepYour mind snug and warm in sleep!” - Edith Sitwell

121. “For [W. B.] Yeats magic was not so much a kind of poetry as poetry a kind of magic, and the object of both alike was evocation of energies and knowledge from beyond normal consciousness.” - Kathleen Raine

122. “Most things may never happen: this one will.” - Philip Larkin

123. “From the time I began to read, as a child, I loved to feel their heft in my hand and the warm spot caused by their intimate weight in my lap; I loved the crisp whisper of a page turning, the musky odor of old paper and the sharp inky whiff of new pages. Leather bindings sent me into ecstasy. I even loved to gaze at a closed book and daydream about the possibilities inside.” - Rita Dove

124. “The search began 10 years agoTo find a nasty viscous foeThey searched in caves and undergroundBut no Bin Laden could be foundThe President full of seethingCalls his Generals to a meetingHave you looked under your noses?Is the question he proposesQuick smart a search is under wayA General comes back the same dayOh president you’re the cats pyjamasYou really do have all the answersDo you know that sneaky toadIs in a house down the roadObama calls him a useless bum(It’s time to get that terror scum)The SEALS are sent to get their manFrom a house in PakistanBut from behind his wifely shieldOsama Bin Laden does not yieldYou’ll not take me you infidelThe SEAL replies you go to hellYou scum this is for 9-11Then shoots him dead with his weapon” - Papa G.

125. “Maybe you think life is not worth living, but is death worth dying for?” - Cesar Nascimento

126. “How many people came and stayed a certain time,Uttered light or dark speech that became part of youLike light behind windblown fog and sandFiltered and influenced by it, until no partRemains that is surely you.” - John Ashbery

127. “Don't fall asleep yet. Contrary to popular belief, that's not where dreams get accomplished.” - George Watsky

128. “Ahora que no te escribo cuando me voy.Ahora que estoy más vivo de lo que estoy.Ahora que nada es urgente, que todo es presente, que hay pan para hoy.Ahora que no te pido lo que me das.Ahora que no me mido con los demás.Ahora que, todos los cuentos, parecen el cuento de nunca empezar.” - Joaquin Sabina

129. “Apa yang bisa kami rasakan, tapi tak usah kami ucapkan. Apa yang bisa kami pikirkan, tapi tak usah kami katakan.” - Rivai Apin

130. “A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me will full hands; How could I answer the child?......I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. There was the hope Dr. Holden had talked about-the grass was a metaphor for his hope. But that"s not all. He continues, Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped, Like grass is a metaphor for God's greatness or something.... And then soon after is itself a child.... And then soon after that, Or, I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broadzones and narrow zones. Growing among black folk as among white.” - John Green

131. “ví dù người có phụ tathì ta chỉ nguyện thành ra con bòcon bò rất ít so đoyêu ai chỉ biết lò dò đi theodù cho đứa đó lật kèo” - Nguyễn Thiên Ngân

132. “Phantoms of thought and memory thinned and fled.” - Siegfried Sassoon

133. “Better off dead than giving in; not taking what you want.” - Carol Ann Duffy

134. “from time to time, i think of him watching mefrom over the top of his glasses, or eating candyfrom a jar. i remember thanking him each timethe session was done. but mostly what i seeis a human hand reaching down to lifta pebble from my tongue” - Tracy K. Smith

135. “Caleb dumped me on my birthday,Before I’d ordered an entrée,“What a dick!” some might say!But don’t you worry my little sheep,I am not sad and will not weep,For Caleb Jones is a cheat!He two-timed me with some ho,Whose name is Kacey ‘Slut’ Munroe!But I don’t care about my foe,For I have found a brand new guy,My Blue Eyed, Mr Berry Pie!And I know, he won’t make me cry,For I did fall under his spell,To him, I am his gorgeous Belle,So Caleb Jones can go to Hell!” - J.C. McClean

136. “Ceux qui errent ne sont pas toujours perdus.” - Tolkien

137. “Love leads us to write poetry because love improves our hearing; like prayer, poetry is every bit as much about listening as it is about speaking. To 'get' the poem is to hear the eloquence of the silence that it calls forth through its manifestation of love.” - David Patterson

138. “The world's an incessant transformation, and to meditateis awareness, with noclinging to,no working on, the mind.It is a floating; ever-moving; 'marvellous emptiness'.Only absorption in such a practice will release usfrom the accidents, and appetites,of life.And upon this leaf one shall cross overthe stormy sea,among the dragon-like waves.” - Robert Gray

139. “Secure in his flightRider on the constant windsHawk flies through his daysLooks then to the eastPrompted by fate’s gentle breezeChanges his intentFate’s gentle breezesMove the mighty heart to changeDestiny remade” - Steve Robison

140. “Trăm năm là ngắn, một ngày dài ghê” - Nguyen Huy Thiep

141. “sad is the poem i will never write” - jeet how romentic