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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.
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
Work
Partly
Steadies
Always
Prey
Alternating
Sun
Curtailed
Says
Thwarted
Fear
Blaze
Comes
Extinguished
Soul
Anew
Done
Dusk
More quotes by Marianne Moore
Dürer would have seen a reason for living in a town like this.
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The weak overcomes its/ menace, the strong over-/comes itself.
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Egotism is usually subversive of sagacity.
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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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repression, however, is not the most obvious characteristic of the sea the sea is a collector, quick to return a rapacious look.
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Poetry ... ... a place for the genuine, Hands that can grasp, eyes that can dilate, hair that can rise
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Poetry, that is to say the poetic, is a primal necessity.
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The heart that gives, gathers.
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Psychology, which explains everything, Explains nothing, And we are still in doubt.
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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.
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When you take my time, you take something I had meant to use.
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The hands are the heart's messengers.
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Everything I have written is the result of reading or of interest in people.
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As contagion of sickness makes sickness, contagion of trust can make trust.
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Impatience is the mark of independence, not of bondage.
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Blessed the geniuses who know / that egomania is not a duty.
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You're not free until you've been made captive by supreme belief.
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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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So wary as to disappear for centuries and reappear but never caught, the unicorn has been preserved by an unmatched device wrought like the work of expert blacksmiths.
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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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