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Time marks us while we are marking time.

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
Death
Time
Marking
Marks
Suicide
Mark

More quotes by Theodore Roethke

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When I go mad, I call my friends by phone: I am afraid they might think they're alone.
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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?
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Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.
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But when I breath with the birds, The spirit of wrath becomes the spirit of blessings, And the dead begin from their dark to sing in my sleep.
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Being, not doing, is my first joy.
Theodore Roethke
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A mind too active is no mind at all.
Theodore Roethke
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Love is not love until love's vulnerable.
Theodore Roethke
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The self says, I am The heart says, I am less The spirit says, you are Nothing.
Theodore Roethke
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I wish I could find an event that meant as much as simple seeing.
Theodore Roethke
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Who rise from flesh to spirit know the fall: The word outleaps the world, and light is all.
Theodore Roethke
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A too explicit elucidation in education destroys much of the pleasure of learning. There should be room for sly hinters, masters of suggestion.
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What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?
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Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire
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Fear was my father, Father Fear. His look drained the stones.
Theodore Roethke
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The living all assemble! What's the cue?-- Do what the clumsy partner wants to do!
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I lose and find myself in the long water. I am gathered together once more.
Theodore Roethke
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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.
Theodore Roethke
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I came to love, I came into my own.
Theodore Roethke
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The stones were sharp, The wind came at my back Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat.
Theodore Roethke