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[The] whirlwind fife-and-drum of the storm bends the salt marsh grass, disturbs stars in the sky and the star on the steeple it is a privilege to see so much confusion.
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
Much
Grass
Marsh
Storm
Disturbs
Disaster
Marshes
Privilege
Bends
Sky
Whirlwind
Star
Drum
Fife
Loss
Salt
Steeple
Stars
Confusion
Steeples
More quotes by Marianne Moore
What is our innocence, What is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe.
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If you will tell me why the fen appears impassable, I then will tell you why I think that I can cross it if I try.
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Maine should be pleased that its animal is not a waverer, and rather than fight, lets the primed quill fall. Shallow oppressor, intruder, insister, you have found a resister.
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the ocean, under the pulsation of lighthouses and noise of bell buoys, advances as usual, looking as if it were not that ocean in which dropped things are bound to sink-- in which if they turn and twist, it is neither with volition nor consciousness.
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Superior people never make long visits.
Marianne Moore
Blessed the geniuses who know / that egomania is not a duty.
Marianne Moore
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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The power of the visible is the invisible.
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It is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing.
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The cynics in life are the people who are always trying to do things for people who don't want things done for them.
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Your thorns are the best part of you.
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When we think we don't like art it is because it is artificial art.
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All are / naked, none is safe.
Marianne Moore
The hands are the heart's messengers.
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Sun and moon and day and night and man and beast each with a splendor which man in all his vileness cannot set aside each with an excellence!
Marianne Moore
A man is a writer if all his words are strung in definite sentence sounds.
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Assign Yogi Berra to Cape Canaveral he could handle any missile.
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Conscious writing can be the death of poetry.
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Truly as the sun can rot or mend, love can make one bestial or make a beast a man.
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The enslaver is enslaved, the hater, harmed.
Marianne Moore