The lyric self is the self; the narrative self is not. Li-Young Lee More Quotes by Li-Young Lee More Quotes From Li-Young Lee People who read poetry have heard about the burning bush, but when you write poetry, you sit inside the burning bush. Li-Young Lee readingwritingpeople Every time you write a poem it’s apocalyptic. You’re revealing who you really are to yourself. Li-Young Lee apocalypticrevealingwriting Brimming. That's what it is, I want to get to a place where my sentences enact brimming. Li-Young Lee sentenceswant To pull the metal splinter from my palm my father recited a story in a low voice. I watched his lovely face and not the blade. Before the story ended, he'd removed the iron sliver I thought I'd die from. I can't remember the tale, but hear his voice still, a well of dark water, a prayer. And I recall his hands, two measures of tenderness he laid against my face. Li-Young Lee fathers-daydadprayer While all bodies share the same fate, all voices do not. Li-Young Lee fatevoicebody That's what I want, that kind of recklessness where the poem is even ahead of you. It's like riding a horse that's a little too wild for you, so there's this tension between what you can do and what the horse decides it's going to do. Li-Young Lee ridinghorsewant Memory is sweet. Even when it’s painful, memory is sweet. Li-Young Lee painfulsweetmemories I've been thinking about something for a long time, and I keep noticing that most human speech-if not all human speech-is made with the outgoing breath. This is the strange thing about presence and absence. When we breath in, our bodies are filled with nutrients and nourishment. Our blood is filled with oxygen, our skin gets flush; our bones get harder-they get compacted. Our muscles get toned and we feel very present when we're breathing in. The problem is, that when we're breathing in, we can't speak. So presence and silence have something to do with each other. Li-Young Lee oxygenbloodthinking Poetry is the language of extremity. Poetry is a transfer of potency. You feel something potent and then you transfer it onto the page. Li-Young Lee potencypageslanguage There are days we live Li-Young Lee wingsjoysweet Maybe being winged means being wounded by infinity. Li-Young Lee woundedinfinitymean The knowledge that it takes to write a poem gets burnt up in the writing of the poem. Li-Young Lee writing The problem with memory is that is changes whatever it touches. It is never that accurate. As a result, I end up modifying and revising my own experiences. It's myth making. Li-Young Lee storytellingproblemmemories A bruise, blue in the muscle, you impinge upon me. As bone hugs the ache home, so I'm vexed to love you, your body the shape of returns, your hair a torso of light, your heat I must have, your opening I'd eat, each moment of that soft-finned fruit, inverted fountain in which I don't see me. Li-Young Lee lightlove-youhome Our bodies look solid, but they arent. Were like a fountain. A fountain of water looks solid, but you can put your fingers right through it. Our bodies look like things, but theres no thingness to them. Li-Young Lee bodywaterlooks In writing poetry, all of one's attention is focused on some inner voice. Li-Young Lee voicewritingattention Some things never leave a person: Li-Young Lee textureweighthair Could it be in longing we are most ourselves? Li-Young Lee longing Memory revises me. Li-Young Lee lightdarkmemories We suffer each other to have each other a while. Li-Young Lee suffering
