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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.
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
Artist
Art
Give
Receive
Able
Emotions
Giving
Prepared
Work
Emotion
Consciousness
Anyone
More quotes by Muriel Rukeyser
Beware of those who talk about sacrifice.
Muriel Rukeyser
If there were no poetry on any day in the world, poetry would be invented that day. For there would be an intolerable hunger.
Muriel Rukeyser
Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest.
Muriel Rukeyser
What three things can never be done? / Forget. Keep silent. Stand alone
Muriel Rukeyser
I think there is a choice possible to us at any moment, as long as we live. But there is no sacrifice. There is a choice, and the rest falls away. Second choice does not exist. Beware of those who talk about sacrifice.
Muriel Rukeyser
I am working out the vocabulary of my silence.
Muriel Rukeyser
Poetry is, above all, an approach to the truth of feeling. A fine poem will seize your imagination intellectually - that is, when you reach it, you will reach it intellectually too - but the way is through emotion, through what we call feeling.
Muriel Rukeyser
Punctuation is biological. It is the physical indication of the body-rhythms which the reader is to acknowledge.
Muriel Rukeyser
The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.
Muriel Rukeyser
My lifetime listens to yours.
Muriel Rukeyser
Whatever can happen to anyone can happen to me.
Muriel Rukeyser
Outrage and possibility are in all the poems we know.
Muriel Rukeyser
The world is not made of molecules, the world is made of stories.
Muriel Rukeyser
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
Let us not fear the hidden. Or each other.
Muriel Rukeyser
Always our wars have been our confessions of weakness
Muriel Rukeyser
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.
Muriel Rukeyser
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?
Muriel Rukeyser
The process of writing a poem represents work done on the self of the poet, in order to make form.
Muriel Rukeyser
One writes in order to feel.
Muriel Rukeyser