Quote

O cruel cloudless space, And pale bare ground where the poor infant lies! Why do we feel restored As in a sacramental place? Here Mystery is artifice, And here a vision of such peace is stored, Healing flows from it through our eyes.

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
Feel
Vision
Flows
Sacramental
Feels
Eyes
Pale
Cloudless
Space
Cruel
Stored
Lying
Healing
Artifice
Poor
Ground
Restored
Eye
Flow
December
Peace
Lies
Bare
Place
Mystery
Infant

More quotes by May Sarton

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Though friendship is not quick to burn it is explosive stuff.
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The ambience here is order and beauty. That is what frightens me when I am first alone again. I feel inadequate. I have made an open place, a place for meditation. What if I cannot find myself inside it?
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How much hope, expectation, and sheer hard work goes into the smallest success! There is no being sure of anything except that whatever has been created will change in time.
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life is always bringing unexpected gifts.
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It is sometimes the most fragile things that have the power to endure and become sources of strength.
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Light is snow sifted / To an abstraction.
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A house that does not have one warm, comfy chair in it is soulless.
May Sarton
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It is dangerous it seems to me for a civilization when there is a complete abyss betewen people in general and the artists. Or is it always so? The poets who are most ardently on the people's side write in such a way that the people cannot see rhyme nor reason to their work.
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About loving, I have little to learn from the young.
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One thing is certain, and I have always known it - the joys of my life have nothing to do with age. They do not change. Flowers, the morning and evening light, music, poetry, silence, the goldfinches darting about
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Family life! The United Nations is child's play compared to the tugs and splits and need to understand and forgive in any family.
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I tell the gods are still alive / And they are not consoling.
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The garden is growth and change and that means loss as well as constant new treasures to make up for a few disasters.
May Sarton
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I’m only able to write poetry, for the most part, when I have a Muse, a woman who focuses the world for me.
May Sarton
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There were moments ... when it seemed that all one could be asked was just to keep the ashtrays clean, the bed made, the wastebaskets emptied, as if one never got to the real things because of the constant exhausting battle to keep ordinary life from falling apart.
May Sarton
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The poet must be free to love or hate as the spirit moves him, free to change, free to be a chameleon, free to be an enfant terrible. He must above all never worry about this effect on other people.
May Sarton
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She became for me an island of light, fun, wisdom where I could run with my discoveries and torments and hopes at any time of day and find welcome.
May Sarton
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Miracles cannot be explained, that is their miraculous nature.
May Sarton
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Love opens the doors into everything, as far as I can see, including and perhaps most of all, the door into one's own secret, and often terrible and frightening, real self.
May Sarton
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Why should it happen that among the great many women whom I see and am fond of, suddenly somebody I meet for half an hour opens the door into poetry?
May Sarton