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Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings. Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest. The blessing is in the seed.

Muriel Rukeyser

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Muriel Rukeyser
Age: 66 †
Born: 1913
Born: December 15
Died: 1980
Died: February 12
Author
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Things
Blest
Nourish
Beginnings
Seed
Seeds
Blessing

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My lifetime listens to yours.
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I remember mother saying : Inventors are like poets, a trashy lot
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the truth of a poem is its form and its content, its music and its meaning are the same.
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Poetry is, above all, an approach to the truth of feeling.
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I am working out the vocabulary of my silence.
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A work of art is one through which the consciousness of the artist is able to give its emotions to anyone who is prepared to receive them.
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Whatever can happen to anyone can happen to me.
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There is also, in any history, the buried, the wasted, and the lost.
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How can I look back and not speak of the stupid learning about birth? Of the stupid learning that people make love, and how it seemed the reason for all things, the intimacy of my wondering, the illumination that to an adolescent was the cause for life around me, the reason why the unhappy people I knew did not kill themselves?
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No one wants to read poetry. You have to make it impossible for them to put the poem down--impossible for them to stop reading it, word after word. You have to keep them from closing the book.
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The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.
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The heavy sensual shoulders, the thighs, the blood-born flesh and earth turning into color, rocks into their crystals, water to sound, fire to form: life flickers uncounted into the supple arms of love.
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