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Extreme patience and persistence are required, Yet everybody succeeds at this before being handed The surprise box lunch of the rest of his life.
John Ashbery
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John Ashbery
Age: 90 †
Born: 1927
Born: July 28
Died: 2017
Died: September 3
Journalist
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Rochester
New York
G'on Ashberi
John Ashberry
Jonas Barry
Jon Asshuberī
John Lawrence Ashbery
John Ashbery
Succeed
Persistence
Rest
Required
Everybody
Lunch
Life
Extreme
Extremes
Boxes
Patience
Succeeds
Surprise
Handed
More quotes by John Ashbery
To the poet as a basement quilt, but perhaps To some reader a latticework of regrets.
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Not until it starts to stink does the inevitable happen.
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Poetry comes to me out of thin air or out of my unconscious mind. It's sort of the way dreams come to us and the way that we get knowledge from them, through television, old movies, which I watch a lot of. Lines of dialogue suddenly seem to be part of a poem.
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Silly girls your heads full of boys
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Its a bit mad. Too bad, I mean, that getting to know each just for a fleeting second Must be replaced by unperfect knowledge of the featureless whole Like some pocket history of the world, so general As to constitute a sob or wail
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The ellipse is as aimless as that, Stretching invisibly into the future so as to reappear In our present. Its flexing is its account, Return to the point of no return.
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I'm heading for a clean-named place like Wisconsin, and mad as a jack-o'-lantern, will get there without help and nosy proclivities.
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I tried each thing, only some were immortal and free.
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Once a happy old man One can never change the core of things, and light burns you the harder for it.
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The sun fades like the spreading Of a peacock's tail, as though twilight Might be read as a warning to those desperate For easy solutions.
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What is the past, what is it all for? A mental sandwich?
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Sometimes a musical phrase would perfectly sum up The mood of a moment. One of those lovelorn sonatas For wind instruments was riding past on a solemn white horse. Everybody wondered who the new arrival was.
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You stupefied me. We waxed, Carnivores, late and alight In the beaded winter. All was ominous, luminous.
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There is the view that poetry should improve your life. I think people confuse it with the Salvation Army.
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Things can harden meaningfully in the moment of indecision
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The summer demands and takes away too much. /But night, the reserved, the reticent, gives more than it takes
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The mind Is so hospitable, taking in everything Like boarders, and you don't see until It's all over how little there was to learn Once the stench of knowledge has dissipated.
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Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you, At incredible speed, traveling day and night.
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The soul establishes itself. But how far can it swim out through the eyes And still return safely to its nest?
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Where then shall hope and fear their objects find?
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