They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don’t think it’s possible for you to miss me as much as I’m missing you right now
After all, my erstwhile dear,My no longer cherished,Need we say it was not love,Just because it perished?
My heart is warm with the friends I make,And better friends I’ll not be knowing,Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take,No matter where it’s going.
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.
My candle burns at both ends;It will not last the night;But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—It gives a lovely light!
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
Pity me that the heart is slow to learnWhat the swift mind beholds at every turn.
Stranger, pause and look;From the dust of agesLift this little book,Turn the tattered pages,Read me, do not let me die!Search the fading letters findingSteadfast in the broken bindingAll that once was I!
I will come back to you, I swear I will;And you will know me still.I shall be only a little tallerThan when I went.
And must I then, indeed, Pain, live with youall through my life?-sharing my fire, my bed,Sharing-oh, worst of all things!-the same head?-And, when I feed myself, feeding you too?
The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief of grief has drained me clean; Still it seems a pity No one saw,—it must have been Very pretty.
Oh, friend, forget not, when you fain would noteIn me a beauty that was never mine,How first you knew me in a book I wrote,How first you loved me for a written line….
Catch from the board of beauty/ Such careless crumbs as fall.
A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.
A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.
I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death.
Degraded bird, I give you back your eyes forever, ascend now whither you are tossed;Forsake this wrist, forsake this rhyme;Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost,But climb.
I do not think there is a woman in whom the roots of passion shoot deeper than in me.
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
I would I were alive again to kiss the fingers of the rain.
And so beneath the weight lay IAnd suffered death, but could not die.
Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age. The child is grown, and puts away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.
Lost in Hell,-Persephone,Take her head upon your knee;Say to her, “My dear, my dear,It is not so dreadful here.
Am I kin to Sorrow,That so oftFalls the knocker of my door—Neither loud nor soft,But as long accustomed—Under Sorrow’s hand?
Sorrow like a ceaseless rainBeats upon my heart.People twist and scream in pain,—Dawn will find them still again;This has neither wax nor wane,Neither stop nor start.
Into each dance must be packed the panic and ecstasy of her last moment of life, for underneath was death.
You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.
I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.
The sky, I thought, is not so grand;I ‘most could touch it with my hand!And reaching up my hand to try,I screamed to feel it touch the sky.
Searching my heart for its true sorrow, This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of words and people, Sick of the city, wanting the sea.
And all the loveliest things there be Come simply so it seems to me.
Strange how few After all’s said and done the things that are Of moment.
My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I’ll not be knowing Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take No matter where it’s going.
My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I’ll not be knowing Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take No matter where it’s going.
My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I’ll not be knowing Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take No matter where it’s going.
My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I’ll not be knowing Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take No matter where it’s going.
My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I’ll not be knowing Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take No matter where it’s going.
My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I’ll not be knowing Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take No matter where it’s going.
My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I’ll not be knowing Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take No matter where it’s going.
My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I’ll not be knowing Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take No matter where it’s going.
With him for a sire and her for a dam What should I be but just what I am?
It is not true that life is one damn thing after another- it’s one damn thing over and over.
My candle burns at both ends It will not last the night But ah my foes and oh my friends – It gives a lovely light.
Where you used to be there is a hole in the world which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime and falling into at night. I miss you like hell.
‘Tis not love’s going hurts my days but that it went in little ways.
After all my erstwhile dear my no longer cherished need we say it was no love just because it perished?
And if I loved you Wednesday well what is that to you? I do not love you Thursday – so much is true.
April Comes like an idiot babbling and strewing flowers.
My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I’ll not be knowing Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take No matter where it’s going.
A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public with his pants down.
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.
God, I can push the grass apart and lay my finger on Thy heart.