Carol Ann Duffy/works - Poetry Collections Books For Children and Plays

Famous quotes containing the words poetry, children, books, collections, carol, works, ann and/or plays:

    That’s why I quit and took up writing poetry instead.
    It’s clean, it’s relaxing, it doesn’t squirt juice all over
    Something you were certain of a minute ago and now your own face
    Is a stranger and no one can tell you it’s true. Hey, stupid!
    John Ashbery (b. 1927)

    A life-long blessing for children is to fill them with warm memories of times together. Happy memories become treasures in the heart to pull out on the tough days of adulthood.
    Charlotte Davis Kasl (20th century)

    An author who speaks about his own books is almost as bad as a mother who talks about her own children.
    Benjamin Disraeli (1804–1881)

    Most of those who make collections of verse or epigram are like men eating cherries or oysters: they choose out the best at first, and end by eating all.
    —Sébastien-Roch Nicolas De Chamfort (1741–1794)

    It is not a carol of joy or glee,
    But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
    But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
    I know why the caged bird sings!
    Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872–1906)

    Reason, the prized reality, the Law, is apprehended, now and then, for a serene and profound moment, amidst the hubbub of cares and works which have no direct bearing on it;Mis then lost, for months or years, and again found, for an interval, to be lost again. If we compute it in time, we may, in fifty years, have half a dozen reasonable hours.
    Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)

    You may try but you can never imagine what it is to have a man’s form of genius in you, and to suffer the slavery of being a girl.
    George Eliot [Mary Ann (or Marian)

    With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
    And Phoebus fir’d my vocal rage;
    He caught me in his silken net,
    And shut me in his golden cage.

    He loves to sit and hear me sing,
    Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
    Then stretches out my golden wing,
    And mocks my loss of liberty.
    William Blake (1757–1827)