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Where music thundered let the mind be still, Where the will triumphed let there be no will, What light revealed, now let the dark fulfill.

May Sarton

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May Sarton
Age: 83 †
Born: 1912
Born: May 3
Died: 1995
Died: July 16
Diarist
Poet
Writer
May Eleanor Sarton
Mind
Triumphed
Fulfill
Revealed
Dark
Light
Stills
Still
Music
Thundered

More quotes by May Sarton

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In a total work, the failures have their not unimportant place.
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Why is it that people who cannot show feeling presume that that is a strength and not a weakness?
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Nobody stays special when they're old, Anna. That's what we have to learn.
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Love is our human miracle.
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Public education was not founded to give society what it wants. Quite the opposite.
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May we agree that private life is irrelevant? Multiple, mixed, ambiguous at best - out of it we try to fashion the crystal clear, the singular, the absolute, and that is what is relevant that is what matters.
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True feeling justifies whatever it may cost.
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I suppose real old age begins when one looks backward rather than forward
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Gardening is an instrument of grace.
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I feel like an inadequate machine, a machine that breaks down at crucial moments, grinds to a dreadful hault, 'won't go,' or, even worse, explodes in some innocent person's face.
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It is possible, I suppose, that we are returning to a Dark Age. What is frightening is that violence is not only represented by nations, but everywhere walks among us freely.
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life is always bringing unexpected gifts.
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People who are always thinking of the feelings of others can be very destructive because they are hiding so much from themselves.
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What can I have that I still want?
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A body without bones would be a limp impossible mess, so a day without steady routine would be disruptive and chaotic.
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One could go on revising a prose page forever whereas there is a point in a poem when one knows it is done forever.
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So this was fame at last! Nothing but a vast debt to be paid to the world in energy, blood, and time.
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The more our bodies fail us, the more naked and more demanding is the spirit, the more open and loving we can become if we are not afraid of what we are and of what we feel. I am not a phoenix yet, but here among the ashes, it may be that the pain is chiefly that of new wings trying to push through.
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Joy, happiness ... we do not question. They are beyond question, maybe. A matter of being. But pain forces us to think, and to make connections ... to discover what has been happening to cause it. And, curiously enough, pain draws us to other human beings in a significant way, whereas joy or happiness to some extent, isolates.
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In the garden the door is always open into the holy - growth, birth, death. Every flower holds the whole mystery in its short cycle, and in the garden we are never far away from death, the fertilizing, good, creative death.
May Sarton