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Deftly they opened the brain of a child, and it was full of flying dreams.
Stanley Kunitz
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Stanley Kunitz
Age: 100 †
Born: 1905
Born: July 29
Died: 2006
Died: May 14
Linguist
Poet
Translator
Writer
Worcester
Massachusetts
Stanley Jasspon Kunitz
Flight
Flying
Dreams
Full
Brain
Deftly
Child
Aviation
Dream
Opened
Children
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In every house of marriage there's room for an interpreter.
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A poem has secrets that the poet knows nothing of.
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A longing for the dance stirs in the buried life.
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Darling, do you remember the man you married? Touch me, remind me who I am.
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Poetry today is easier to write but harder to remember.
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Memory is each man's poet-in-residence.
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Some poems present themselves as cliffs that need to be climbed. Others are so defensive that when you approach their enclosure you half expect to be met by a snarling dog at the gate. Still others want to smother you with their sticky charms.
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It is my heart that's late, it is my song that's flown.
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End with an image and don't explain.
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The heart breaks and breaks and lives by breaking it is necessary to go through dark and deeper dark and not to turn
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Live in the layers, not on the litter.
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Poetry is the enemy of the poem.
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How shall the heart be reconciled / To its feast of losses?
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I can hardly wait for tomorrow, it means a new life for me each and every day.
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The ear writes my poems, not the mind.
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We have all been expelled from the Garden, but the ones who suffer most in exile are those who are still permitted to dream of perfection.
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An old poet ought never to be caught with his technique showing.
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I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle not to stray.
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