Marianne Moore Quotes
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When we think we don't like art it is because it is artificial art.
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One detects creative power by its capacity to conquer one's detachment.
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Yule—Yul log for the Christmas-fire tale-spinner—of fairy tales that can come true: Yul Brynner.
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Among animals, one has a sense of humor. Humor saves a few steps, it saves years.
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To wear the arctic fox you have to kill it.
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[On her use of quotations:] When a thing has been said so well that it could not be said better, why paraphrase it? Hence my writing, is, if not a cabinet of fossils, a kind of collection of flies in amber.
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The sweet air coming into your house on a fine day, from water etched with waves as formal as the scales on a fish.
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In a poem the excitement has to maintain itself. I am governed by the pull of the sentence as the pull of a fabric is governed by gravity.
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They fought the enemy, we fight fat living and self-pity. Shine, o shine, unfalsifying sun, on this sick scene.
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A symbol from the first, of mastery, experiments such as Hippocrates made and substituted for vague speculation stayed the ravages of plague.
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If you will tell me why the fen appears impassable, I then will tell you why I think that I can cross it if I try.
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O to be a dragon, a symbol of the power of Heaven-of silk-worm size or immense; at times invisible. Felicitous phenomenon!
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The mind is an enchanting thing.
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When one is frank, one's very presence is a compliment.
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Unconfusion submits its confusion to proof; it's not a Herod's oath that cannot change.
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It is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing.
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The self does not realize itself most fully when self-realization is its most constant aim.
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Assign Yogi Berra to Cape Canaveral; he could handle any missile.
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Victory won't come to me unless I go to it; a grape tendril ties a knot in knots till knotted thirty times
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I see no reason for calling my work poetry except that there is no other category in which to put it.
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The power of the visible is the invisible.
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the small tuft of fronds or katydid legs above each eye, still numbering the units in each group; the shadbones regularly set about the mouth, to droop or rise
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Below the incandescent stars / below the incandescent fruit, / the strange experience of beauty; / its existence is too much; / it tears one to pieces / and each fresh wave of consciousness / is poison.
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Sun and moon and day and night and man and beast each with a splendor which man in all his vileness cannot set aside; each with an excellence!
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A man is a writer if all his words are strung in definite sentence sounds.
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Conscious writing can be the death of poetry.
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In a poem the words should be as pleasing to the ear as the meaning is to the mind.
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The passion for setting people right is in itself an afflictive disease.
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As contagion of sickness makes sickness, contagion of trust can make trust.
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Omissions are not accidents.
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