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The forties and fifties were years of high poet-incense the language-flowers were thickly sweet. Those flowers whined and begged white folks to pick them, to find them lovable. Then the '60s: Independent fire!
Gwendolyn Brooks
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Gwendolyn Brooks
Age: 83 †
Born: 1917
Born: June 7
Died: 2000
Died: December 3
Novelist
Poet
Teacher
Writer
Topeka
Kansas
Gwendolyn Elizabeth Brooks
Poet
Lovable
Years
Sweet
Forty
Fire
Flowers
Whined
High
Pick
Thickly
Literature
Picks
Forties
Folks
Begged
White
Independent
Fifties
Language
Flower
Incense
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More quotes by Gwendolyn Brooks
A writer should get as much education as possible, but just going to school is not enough if it were, all owners of doctorates would be inspired writers.
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Art hurts. Art urges voyages - and it is easier to stay at home.
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Reading is important - read between the lines. Don't swallow everything.
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It frightens me to realize that, if I had died before the age of fifty, I would have died a 'Negro' fraction.
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Very early in life I became fascinated with the wonders language can achieve. And I began playing with words.
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Truth-tellers are not always palatable. There is a preference for candy bars.
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Books are meat and medicine and flame and flight and flower steel, stitch, cloud and clout, and drumbeats on the air.
Gwendolyn Brooks
Be yourself. Don't imitate other poets. You are as important as they are.
Gwendolyn Brooks
at a certain moment in social proceedings, I am on FIRE to leave: I have a leaving-FIT.
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It is brave to be involved
Gwendolyn Brooks
What I'm fighting for now in my work... for an expression relevant to all manner of blacks, poems I could take into a tavern, into the street, into the halls of a housing project.
Gwendolyn Brooks
Be careful what you swallow. Chew!
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This is the urgency: Live! and have your blooming in the noise of the whirlwind.
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Do not desire to fit in. Desire to oblige yourselves to lead.
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I like the concentration, the crush I like working with language, as others like working with clay, or notes.
Gwendolyn Brooks
I think it must be lonely to be God. Nobody loves a master. No.
Gwendolyn Brooks
Poetry is life distilled.
Gwendolyn Brooks
Exhaust the little moment / Soon it dies.
Gwendolyn Brooks
The music is in minors.
Gwendolyn Brooks
And if sun comes / How shall we greet him? / Shall we not dread him, / Shall we not fear him / After so lengthy a / Session with shade?
Gwendolyn Brooks
