Marianne Moore

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."

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."

"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.

I, too, dislike it. Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers in it, after all, a place for the genuine.

HE MADE THIS SCREEN not of silver nor of coral, but of weatherbeaten laurel. Here, he introduced a sea uniform like tapestry; here, a fig-tree; there, a face; there, a dragon circling space -- designating here, a bower; there, a pointed passion-flower.

I am troubled, I'm dissatisfied, I'm Irish.