Quote

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.

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
Bird
Begin
Wrath
Dead
Blessings
Becomes
Birds
Sleep
Breath
Dark
Breaths
Spirit
Sing
Blessing

More quotes by Theodore Roethke

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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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A mind too active is no mind at all.
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How terrible the need for God.
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What falls away is always. And is near.
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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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All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.
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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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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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When I go mad, I call my friends by phone: I am afraid they might think they're alone.
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I am overwhelmed by the beautiful disorder of poetry, the eternal virginity of words.
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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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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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Art is our defense against hysteria and death.
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What's important? That which is dug out of books, or out of the guts?
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In a dark time, the eye begins to see / I meet my shadow in the deepening shade...Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
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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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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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Reason? That dreary shed, that hutch for grubby schoolboys.
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