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How body from spirit slowly does unwind, until we are pure spirit at the end.

Theodore Roethke

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Theodore Roethke
Age: 55 †
Born: 1908
Born: May 25
Died: 1963
Died: August 1
Poet
Teacher
Writer
Saginaw
Michigan
Slowly
Pure
Spirit
Ends
Doe
Body
Unwind

More quotes by Theodore Roethke

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Time marks us while we are marking time.
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Let others probe the mystery if they can.Time-harried prisoners of Shall and Will -The right thing happens to the happy man.
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The fields stretch out in long unbroken rows. We walk aware of what is far and close. Here distance is familiar as a friend. The feud we kept with space comes to an end.
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Who rise from flesh to spirit know the fall: The word outleaps the world, and light is all.
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So much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying, An intolerable waiting, A longing for another place and time, Another condition.
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The living all assemble! What's the cue?-- Do what the clumsy partner wants to do!
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All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.
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What falls away is always. And is near.
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Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire
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And soon a branch, part of a hidden scene,The leafy mind, that long was tightly furled,Will turn its private substance into green,And young shoots spread upon our inner world.
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Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.
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The poet: would rather eat a heart than a hambone.
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Being, not doing, is my first joy.
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I lose and find myself in the long water. I am gathered together once more.
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What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?
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I learn by going where I have to go.
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Death was not. I lived in a simple drowse:Hands and hair moved through a dream of wakening blossoms.Rain sweetened the cave and the dove still calledThe flowers leaned on themselves, the flowers in hollowsAnd love, love sang toward.
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What have I done, dear God, to deserve this perpetual feeling that I'm almost ready to begin something really new?
Theodore Roethke
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I always felt mean, jogging back over the logging road,As if I had broken the natural order of things in that swamplandDisturbed some rhythm, old and of vast importance,By pulling off flesh from the living planetAs if I had committed, against the whole scheme of life, a desecration.
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We think by feeling. What is there to know?
Theodore Roethke