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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.
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
Violence
Rings
Unafraid
Fire
Instant
Lake
Waiting
Burning
Forest
Turns
Wait
Fearful
Water
Creation
Lakes
Heart
Beyond
Flash
Subsides
Terrible
Pool
Sunlit
Silence
Forests
Abominable
More quotes by Theodore Roethke
Reason? That dreary shed, that hutch for grubby schoolboys.
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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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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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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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I came to love, I came into my own.
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Love is not love until love's vulnerable.
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Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire
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I have gone into the waste lonely places
Theodore Roethke
Fear was my father, Father Fear. His look drained the stones.
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All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.
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I lose and find myself in the long water. I am gathered together once more.
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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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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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How terrible the need for God.
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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 is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?
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And I walked, I walked through the light air I moved with the morning.
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How body from spirit slowly does unwind, until we are pure spirit at the end.
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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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I am overwhelmed by the beautiful disorder of poetry, the eternal virginity of words.
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