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As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive of one's attending upon you but to question the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists.
Marianne Moore
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Marianne Moore
Age: 84 †
Born: 1887
Born: November 15
Died: 1972
Died: February 5
Essayist
Poet
Translator
Writer
Kirkwood
Missouri
Marianne Moore
Marianne Craig Moore
Conceive
Butterfly
Hardly
Vain
Exists
Congruence
Question
Butterflies
Upon
Complement
Attending
More quotes by Marianne Moore
I see no reason for calling my work poetry except that there is no other category in which to put it.
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Fanaticism? No. Writing is exciting and baseball is like writing. You can never tell with either how it will go.
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There is no pleasure subtler than the sensation of being a good workman and in work there is the sense of consanguinity-unconscious as a rule but sometimes conscious.
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The power of the visible is the invisible.
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Below the incandescent stars / below the incandescent fruit, / the strange experience of beauty / its existence is too much / it tears one to pieces / and each fresh wave of consciousness / is poison.
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The hands are the heart's messengers.
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All are / naked, none is safe.
Marianne Moore
The heart that gives, gathers.
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Yule—Yul log for the Christmas-fire tale-spinner—of fairy tales that can come true: Yul Brynner.
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Camels are snobbish and sheep, unintelligent water buffaloes, neurasthenic-- even murderous. Reindeer seem over-serious.
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When one is frank, one's very presence is a compliment.
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You're not free until you've been made captive by supreme belief.
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When we think we don't like art it is because it is artificial art.
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Psychology, which explains everything, Explains nothing, And we are still in doubt.
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Superior people never make long visits.
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They fought the enemy, we fight fat living and self-pity. Shine, o shine, unfalsifying sun, on this sick scene.
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Originality is... a by-product of sincerity.
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Of the crow-blue mussel shells, one keeps adjusting the ash heaps opening and shutting itself like an injured fan.
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Conscious writing can be the death of poetry.
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There never was a war that was not inward.
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