Famous quotes containing the words avenue, road, plains, white, west, east, square, farms and/or line:
“Along the avenue of cypresses,
All in their scarlet cloaks and surplices
Of linen, go the chanting choristers,
The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . . .”
—D.H. (David Herbert)
“My desk, most loyal friend
thank you. You’ve been with me on
every road I’ve taken.
My scar and my protection.”
—Marina Tsvetaeva (1892–1941)
“When I say artist I don’t mean in the narrow sense of the word—but the man who is building things—creating molding the earth—whether it be the plains of the west—or the iron ore of Penn. It’s all a big game of construction—some with a brush—some with a shovel—some choose a pen.”
—Jackson Pollock (1912–1956)
“the only truth is face to face, the poem whose words become your
mouth
and dying in black and white we fight for what we love, not are”
—Frank O’Hara (1926–1966)
“The trouble about soldiers in Mr. Siegfried Sassoon’s poetry ... is that they are the kind of people who in a railroad train have to travel with their backs to the engine. Peace can have but few corners softly padded enough for such sensitives.”
—Rebecca West (1892–1983)
“Before I finally went into winter quarters in November, I used to resort to the north- east side of Walden, which the sun, reflected from the pitch pine woods and the stony shore, made the fireside of the pond; it is so much pleasanter and wholesomer to be warmed by the sun while you can be, than by an artificial fire. I thus warmed myself by the still glowing embers which the summer, like a departed hunter, had left.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“Houses haunt me.
That last house!
How it sat like a square box!”
—Anne Sexton (1928–1974)
“We noticed several other sandy tracts in our voyage; and the course of the Merrimack can be traced from the nearest mountain by its yellow sand-banks, though the river itself is for the most part invisible. Lawsuits, as we hear, have in some cases grown out of these causes. Railroads have been made through certain irritable districts, breaking their sod, and so have set the sand to blowing, till it has converted fertile farms into deserts, and the company has had to pay the damages.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“Gascoigne, Ben Jonson, Greville, Raleigh, Donne,
Poets who wrote great poems, one by one,
And spaced by many years, each line an act
Through which few labor, which no men retract.
This passion is the scholar’s heritage,”
—Yvor Winters (1900–1968)