Not till the poets among us can be "literalists of the imagination"-above insolence and triviality and can present for inspection, "imaginary gardens with real toads in them." shall we have it.
Marianne Moore (1887 - 1972)
Source: Poetry, 1935, st. 4, 5
Contributed by: Zaady
What is our innocence, What is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe.
Source: What Are Years? 1941
The prey of fear, he, always curtailed, extinguished, thwarted by the dusk, work partly done, says to the alternating blaze, "Again the sun! anew each day; and new and new and new, that comes into and steadies my soul."
Source: The Pangolin, 1941, st 9
Excess is the common substitute for energy.
My father used to say, "Superior people never make long visits, have to be shown Longfellows grave, or the glass flowers at Harvard."
Source: Silence, 1935
"The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence; not in silence, but restraint."
We don't like flowers that do not wilt; they must die, and nine she-camel hairs aid memory.
Source: The Sycamore, 1956, st. 2
I, too, dislike it. Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers in it, after all, a place for the genuine.
Source: Poetry, 1935; revised 1967
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