Quote #18
The wind, the birds, do not sound poorer but clearer, recalling our agony, and the way we danced.
More from Denise Levertov
- Perhaps he will not return. But what we have lived comes back to us. We see more. We feel, as our rings increase, something that lifts our …
- To serve the people, one must write for the ideal reader. Only for the ideal reader. And who or what is that ideal reader? God. One must im…
- It is said he made his earth-journey, and lost what he sought. It is said they felled him and cut up his limbs for firewood. And it is said…
- I am not joking. I'm speaking of spirit. Not dogma but spirit. The Way.
- By dawn he was gone. We have stood here since, in our new life. We have waited. He does not return.
- The poet never must lose despair.
- The music reached us. Clumsily, stumbling over our own roots, rustling our leaves in answer, we moved, we followed.
- Leaps of nerve, heart - cries of communion: if there is bliss, it has been already and will be; out- reaching, utterly. Blind to itself, fl…