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What's important? That which is dug out of books, or out of the guts?

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
Guts
Importance
Books
Book
Important

More quotes by Theodore Roethke

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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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Live in a perpetual great astonishment.
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The poet: would rather eat a heart than a hambone.
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I came to love, I came into my own.
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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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We think by feeling. What is there to know?
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Love is not love until love's vulnerable.
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I wish I could find an event that meant as much as simple seeing.
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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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All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.
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Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.
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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 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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Time marks us while we are marking time.
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I have gone into the waste lonely places
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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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Who rise from flesh to spirit know the fall: The word outleaps the world, and light is all.
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The visible exhausts me. I am dissolved in shadow.
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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.
Theodore Roethke