Quote

Long live the weeds that overwhelm My narrow vegetable realm! The bitter rock, the barren soil That force the son of man to toil All things unholy, marred by curse, The ugly of the universe.

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
Things
Ugly
Realm
Marred
Men
Son
Bitterness
Unholy
Rock
Weed
Overwhelm
Rocks
Narrow
Vegetable
Universe
Realms
Weeds
Force
Curse
Barren
Live
Soil
Toil
Long
Bitter
Vegetables

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I came to love, I came into my own.
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What's important? That which is dug out of books, or out of the guts?
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Love is not love until love's vulnerable.
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By daily dying, I have come to be.
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The indignity of it!- With everything blooming above me, Lilies, pale-pink cyclamen, roses, Whole fields lovely and inviolate,- Me down in the fetor of weeds, Crawling on all fours, Alive, in a slippery grave.
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We think by feeling. What is there to know?
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I learn by going where I have to go.
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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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When I go mad, I call my friends by phone: I am afraid they might think they're alone.
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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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You must believe: a poem is a holy thing - a good poem, that is. The poem, even a short time after being written, seems no miracle unwritten, it seems something beyond the capacity of the gods.
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The self says, I am The heart says, I am less The spirit says, you are Nothing.
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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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I am overwhelmed by the beautiful disorder of poetry, the eternal virginity of words.
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Fear was my father, Father Fear. His look drained the stones.
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What falls away is always. And is near.
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Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.
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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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I lose and find myself in the long water. I am gathered together once more.
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I came where the river Ran over stones My ears knew An early joy. And all the waters Of all the streams Sang in my veins That summer day.
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