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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.
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
Pieces
Consciousness
Strange
Incandescent
Existence
Poison
Beauty
Fresh
Stars
Wave
Experience
Fruit
Much
Tears
More quotes by Marianne Moore
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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Life is energy, and energy is creativity. And even when individuals pass on, the energy is retained in the work of art, locked in it and awaiting release if only someone will take the time and the care to unlock it.
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When you take my time, you take something I had meant to use.
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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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When one is frank, one's very presence is a compliment.
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What I write could only be called poetry because there is no other category to put it.
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The Irish say your trouble is their trouble and your joy their joy? I wish I could believe it I am troubled, I'm dissatisfied, I'm Irish.
Marianne Moore
Assign Yogi Berra to Cape Canaveral he could handle any missile.
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In a poem the excitement has to maintain itself. I am governed by the pull of the sentence as the pull of a fabric is governed by gravity.
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Originality is... a by-product of sincerity.
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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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A man is a writer if all his words are strung in definite sentence sounds.
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We are what we were at birth, and each trait has remained in conformity with earth's and with heaven's logic: Be the devil's tool, resort to black magic, None can diverge from the ends which Heaven foreordained.
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that which is impossible to force, it is impossible to hinder.
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Writing is an undertaking for the modest.
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The heart that gives, gathers.
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Honesty - however dangerous - should be as valuable as radium it seems to me.
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As contagion of sickness makes sickness, contagion of trust can make trust.
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There never was a war that was not inward.
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The enslaver is enslaved, the hater, harmed.
Marianne Moore