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When I go mad, I call my friends by phone: I am afraid they might think they're alone.
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
Phones
Afraid
Alone
Call
Friends
Might
Think
Phone
Thinking
Mad
More quotes by Theodore Roethke
Live in a perpetual great astonishment.
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And I walked, I walked through the light air I moved with the morning.
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What falls away is always. And is near.
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What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?
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The stones were sharp, The wind came at my back Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat.
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I learn by going where I have to go.
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I have gone into the waste lonely places
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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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In this place of light: he dares to live Who stops being a bird, yet beats his wings Against the immense immeasurable emptiness of things.
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The visible exhausts me. I am dissolved in shadow.
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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.
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All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.
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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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By daily dying, I have come to be.
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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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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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A terrible violence of creation,A flash into the burning heart of the abominableYet if we wait, unafraid, beyond the fearful instant,The burning lake turns into a forest pool,The fire subsides into rings of water,A sunlit silence.
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Reason? That dreary shed, that hutch for grubby schoolboys.
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Fear was my father, Father Fear. His look drained the stones.
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Who rise from flesh to spirit know the fall: The word outleaps the world, and light is all.
Theodore Roethke
