Poetry is the enemy of the poem. Stanley Kunitz More Quotes by Stanley Kunitz More Quotes From Stanley Kunitz The universe is a continuous web. Touch it at any point and the whole web quivers. Stanley Kunitz quiveruniversewhole I can hardly wait for tomorrow, it means a new life for me each and every day. Stanley Kunitz new-lifewaitingmean When you look back on a lifetime and think of what has been given to the world by your presence, your fugitive presence, inevitably you think of your art, whatever it may be, as the gift you have made to the world in acknowledgment of the gift you have been given, which is the life itself... That work is not an expression of the desire for praise or recognition, or prizes, but the deepest manifestation of your gratitiude for the gift of life. Stanley Kunitz expressionartthinking Be what you are. Give What is yours to give. Have Style. Dare. Stanley Kunitz darestylegiving The poem comes in the form of a blessing, like rapture breaking on the mind. Stanley Kunitz formblessingmind We have to learn how to live with our frailties. The best people I know are inadequate and unashamed. Stanley Kunitz frailtyknowspeople Poetry is ultimately mythology, the telling of stories of the soul. The old myths, the old gods, the old heroes have never died. They are only sleeping at the bottom of our minds, waiting for our call. We have need of them, for in their sum they epitomize the wisdom and experience of the race. Stanley Kunitz raceherosleep I want to write poems that are natural, luminous, deep, spare. I dream of an art so transparent that you can look through and see the world. Stanley Kunitz dreamwritingart You must be careful not to deprive the poem of its wild origin. Stanley Kunitz carefulbe-careful I have walked through many lives, Stanley Kunitz my-ownprinciplesstruggle Deftly they opened the brain of a child, and it was full of flying dreams. Stanley Kunitz flyingdreamchildren The poem in the head is always perfect. Resistance begins when you try to convert it into language. Stanley Kunitz resistanceperfecttrying A poem has secrets that the poet knows nothing of. Stanley Kunitz poetsecretknows End with an image and don't explain. Stanley Kunitz endswriting I dance/for the joy of surviving, at the edge of the road. Stanley Kunitz survivingsurvivaljoy In a murderous time/the heart breaks and breaks/and lives by breaking. Stanley Kunitz heart-breakbreakheart In every house of marriage there's room for an interpreter. Stanley Kunitz marriagehouserooms Rhythm to me is essentially what Hopkins called the taste of self. I taste myself as rhythm. Stanley Kunitz rhythmtasteself We have all been expelled from the Garden, but the ones who suffer most in exile are those who are still permitted to dream of perfection. Stanley Kunitz gardenperfectiondream The heart breaks and breaks and lives by breaking it is necessary to go through dark and deeper dark and not to turn Stanley Kunitz breakdarkheart
