Women Authors From The United States

"Poetry is not; or seems not to be. But it appears that among the great conflicts of this culture, the conflict in our attitude toward poetry stands clearly lit. There are no guards built up to hide it. We call see its expression, and we can see its effects upon us. We can see our own conflict and our own resource if we look, now, at this art, which has been made of all the arts the one least acceptable. Anyone dealing with poetry and the love of poetry must deal, then, with the hatred of poetry, and perhaps even Ignore with the indifference which is driven toward the center. It comes through as boredom, as name-calling, as the traditional attitude of the last hundred years which has chalked in the portrait of the poet as he is known to this society, which, as Herbert Read says, "does not challenge poetry in principle it merely treats it with ignorance, indifference and unconscious cruelty." Poetry is foreign to us, we do not let it enter our daily lives."

"Poetry is, above all, an approach to the truth of feeling, and what is the use of truth! How do we use feeling? How do we use truth! However confused the scene of our life appears, however torn we may be who now do face that scene, it can be faced, and we can go on to be whole. If we use the resources we now have, we and the world itself may move in one fullness. Moment to moment, we can grow, if we can bring ourselves to meet the moment with our lives."

"In this moment when we face horizons and conflicts wider than ever before, we want our resources, the ways of strength. We look again to the human wish, its faiths, the means by which the imagination leads us to surpass ourselves. If there is a feeling that something has been lost, it may be because much has not yet been used, much is still to be found and begun. Everywhere we are told that our human resources are all to be used, that our civilization itself means the uses of everything it has — the inventions, the histories, every scrap of fact. But there is one kind of knowledge — infinitely precious, time-resistant more than monuments, here to be passed between the generations in any way it may be: never to be used. And that is poetry."

"In time of crisis, we summon up our strength. Then, if we are lucky, we are able to call every resource, every forgotten image that can leap to our quickening, every memory that can make us know our power. And this luck is more than it seems to be: it depends on the long preparation of the self to be used. In time of the crises of the spirit, we are aware of all our need, our need for each other and our need for our selves. We call up, with all the strength of summoning we have, our fullness."

"The whole and fertile spirit as guarantee For every human freedom, suffering to be free, Daring to live for the impossible."

"To be a Jew in the twentieth century Is to be offered a gift. If you refuse, Wishing to be invisible, you choose Death of the spirit, the stone insanity. Accepting, take full life. Full agonies: Your evening deep in labyrinthine blood Of those who resist, fail, and resist: and God Reduced to a hostage among hostages. The gift is torment."

"This is to be a summary poem of the life of the Atlantic coast of this country, nourished by the communications which run down it. Gauley Bridge is inland, but it was created by theories, systems, and workmen from many coastal sections — factors which are, in the end, not regional or national. Local images have one kind of reality. U.S. 1 will, I hope, have that kind and another too. Poetry can extend the document."

"What do you want — a cliff over a city? A foreland, sloped to sea and overgrown with roses? These people live here."

"Here is your road, tyingyou to its meanings: gorge, boulder, precipice. Telescoped down, the hard and stone-green river cutting fast and direct into the town."

"These are roads to take when you think of your country and interested bring down the maps again, phoning the statistician, asking the dear friend, reading the papers with morning inquiry."

"What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open."

"I speak to you. You speak to me. Is that fragile?"

"The ancient usual retreat Takes down the steps the scattering horde; Adam again has met defeat, Has missed connections with the Lord. But where the altar-candles die Waits God, and in a corner prays The last of heroes who will try The Gate again in seven days."

"I may, if I can, sleep; since I must, die. Some say, rise."

"I am Ra. Consider, if you will, a simple example of intentions which are bad/good. This example is Adolf. This is your vibratory sound complex. The intention is to presumably unify by choosing the distortion complex called elite from a social memory complex and then enslaving, by various effects, those who are seen as the distortion of not-elite. There is then the concept of taking the social memory complex thus weeded and adding it to a distortion thought of by the so-called Orion group as an empire. The problem facing them is that they face a great deal of random energy released by the concept of separation. This causes them to be vulnerable as the distortions amongst their own members are not harmonized."

"I am Ra. The Law of One, though beyond the limitations of name, as you call vibratory sound complexes, may be approximated by stating that all things are one, that there is no polarity, no right or wrong, no disharmony, but only identity. All is one, and that one is love/light, light/love, the Infinite Creator."

"We have no philanthropists and [Mikhail] Khodorkovsky's imprisonment is a warning to others. He set up the Open Russia Foundation and financed opposition parties, environmental organisations and human rights. Vladimir Putin has said that Russia will not allow foreigners to finance our civil society, but now we have no domestic investors to do it, which is a tragedy. If we continue like this, 100 years from now there will be no civil society in Russia."

"We are hurtling back into a Soviet abyss, into an information vacuum that spells death from our own ignorance. All we have left is the internet, where information is still freely available. For the rest, if you want to go on working as a journalist, it's total servility to Putin. Otherwise, it can be death, the bullet, poison, or trial - whatever our special services, Putin's guard dogs, see fit."

"Tragically, our most active democrats are on the Left. I cannot bring myself to vote Communist because the distance between their progressive and repressive instincts is too short, but Putin's regime is a great recruiting ground for the Left, particularly among the young."

"My heroes are those people who want to be individuals but are being forced to be cogs again. In an Empire there are only cogs."

"[It] is we who are responsible for Putin's policies ... [s]ociety has shown limitless apathy ... [a]s the Chekists have become entrenched in power, we have let them see our fear, and thereby have only intensified their urge to treat us like cattle. The KGB respects only the strong. The weak it devours. We of all people ought to know that."

"Anybody trying to do anything worthwhile in Russia at the moment is moving toward the left. [Mikhail] Khodorkovsky is correct, although all the democrats condemned his thoughts from prison. Russia's Left March is a fait accompli, which also rules out any Russian Orange Revolution. There will be no splendid revolutionary breakthrough with oranges, tulips, or roses in Russia. Our revolution, if it comes, will be red, because the Communists are almost the most democratic force in the country, and because it will be bloody."

"It is something to remember, if we feel distant from humans. We owe a great deal to human love. We live forever by the grace of human love, which rocked strange children in their cradles and did not despair and did not turn away. I know which side of my heritage my soul comes from. Our fathers were demons. Our mothers were heroes."

"You could not tell a potential customer, expecting a learned and ancient magician, that you were not eve fully grown. Magnus had started lying about his age young, and had never dropped the habit. It did get a little embarrassing sometimes when he forgot what lie he'd told to whom. Someone had once asked him what Julius Caeser was like, and Magnus had stared at him for much too long and said, 'Not tall?'"

"But of course you should have retreated at once from the dominant male. Are you an idiot? You are extremely lucky he was distracted from ripping out your throat by the fruit. He thought you were trying to steal his females." "Pardon me, but we did not have the time to exchange that kind of personal information. I could not have known! Moreover, I wish to assure both of you that I did not make any amorous advances on female monkeys. [...] I didn't actually see any, so I didn't get the chance."

"He paused and admired the bromeliads, huge iridescent flower-like bowls made out of petals, shimmering with color and water. There were frogs inside the jewel-bright recesses of the flowers. Then he looked up into the round brown eyes of a monkey. 'Hello, companion,' said Magnus. The monkey made a terrible sound, half snarl and half hiss. 'I begin to rather doubt the beauty of our friendship,' said Magnus."

"Try to be a little sensible." "We're on holiday!" "You're always on holiday. You've been on holiday for thirty years!" "I can't get enough adventure. And adventure can't get enough of me."

"Don't worry. I can teach you every word that you need to know right now. One of them is fiesta. "What does that mean?" "It means 'party' Another important word is juerga. "What does that word mean? [...] Magnus, does that word also mean 'party?'" "I would apologize, except that I feel no regret at all."

"'No glamour?' Magnus inquired. 'You said that you wanted me to join you on travels that would be a ceaseless round of debauchery,' Ragnor told him. Magnus beamed. 'I did!' He paused. 'Forgive me. I do not see the connection.' 'I have found I have better luck with the ladies in my natural state,' Ragnor told him. 'Ladies enjoy a bit of variety. There was a woman in the court of Louis the Sun King who said none could compare to her "dear little cabbage." I hear it's become quite a popular term of endearment in France. All thanks to me.'"

"When two people are at one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze."

"I recall what you said to me once, that words have the power to change us. Your words have changed me, Tess; they have made me a better man than I would have been otherwise. Life is a book, and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read. I would read them together with you, as many as I can, before I die."

"Inanimate objects are harmless indeed, Mr. Mortmain. But one cannot always say the same of the men who use them."

"One must always be careful of books," said Tessa, "and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us."

"Simon was looking at Jace as if he were both fascinating and also a little alarming. 'Did I-- did we ever-- did I bite you?' Jace touched the scar on his throat. 'I can't believe you remember that.' 'Did we... roll around on the bottom of a boat?' 'Yes, you bit me, yes, I kind of liked it, yes, let's not talk about it again,' said Jace."

"Has anyone seen Church? I think Zachariah just stole our cat. I swear I saw him putting Church in the backseat of a car."

"I feel a kinship with you, too, you who have lost both brother and father. I know you have been judged and spoken of as the daughter of Valentine Morgenstern, and now the sister of Jonathan. There will always be those who want to tell you who you are based on your name or the blood in your veins. Do not let people decide who you are. Decide for yourself. That freedom is not a gift; it is a birthright. I hope that you and Jace will use it."

"I remember you said this war was a story of Lightwoods and Herondales and Fairchilds, and it is, and Blackthorns and Carstairs as well, and it's amazing to see them. But when I do, it's as if I see the past that stretches out behind them. I watch Jace Herondale play, and I see the ghosts that rise up in the music. Don't you?"

"Brother Zachariah. Months January through December of the Hot Silent Brothers Calendar."

"Are we long-lost friends, by chance?" "No, we never got along all that well. Long-lost acquaintances? Compadres? My cat liked you."

"Is our strategy when we actually see him still 'trust me,' by the way?" "It's still 'trust me.'" "Oh, good. For a second there I was worried there was going to be an actual plan with, like, steps we could follow. You know, something reassuring."

"Maybe you should try looking a little less smug about what you did last night." "I do not look smug. Well, no more than usual." "Please, I can read your face like a very open, very pornographic book. I wish I couldn't."

"Straight people. Why can't they control themselves?"

"Why didn't you say something?" "Because, it's not like there's animals I can feed on here." "There's us." "I don't want to feed on my friends' blood." "Why not? We've been here before, haven't we? Last time you were starving, I gave you my blood. It was a little homoerotic, maybe, but I'm secure in my sexuality."

"Why are you filming this?" "When the cat is away, the mice will play... Always good to remind the mice that in this case, when the cat is away, the mice will all be eaten by demons. I'm going to send this video file to everyone one of our Downworlder contacts around the world. Just a reminder that there are demons we need Shadowhunters to destroy. That's why they exist."

"'You know,' Maia said. 'Catarina said you were pretty harmless--' Malcolm looked pleased. 'Catarina said I was pretty?'"

"'How do you people stand snow?' he demanded. "'You people'?" Bat bristled. 'Do you mean werewolves?' 'I mean East Coasters,' said Malcolm. 'Who would have weather if they could avoid it? Snow, hail, rain. I'd move to Los Angeles in a jiffy. Did you know that a jiffy is an actual measurement of time? It's a sixtieth of a second. You can't do anything in a jiffy, not really.'"

"Jace shook his head. 'I don't care if I did just set myself on fire,' he said. 'I'm not hugging you.' Simon sighed and dropped his arms. 'Your loss,' he said. 'If you'd gone in, I would've let you, but honestly it would have been a pity hug.'"

"'Who's there?' he called, then frowned. 'Of course,' he added, addressing the darkness all around, 'even I, as a Shadowhunter, have seen enough movies to know that anyone who yells 'Who's there?' is going to be instantly killed.'"

"'Sure, he likes you,' said Alec. 'You're heterosexual and have low expectations of father figures.' 'I think they'll probably put that on my gravestone. "He Was Heterosexual and Had Low Expectations."'"

"The first time you saw me, I bet you didn't think, He's going to get me killed." "The first time I saw you, I wished you'd go back to Idris. You know I don't like change." "I grew on you, though." "Eventually. Like a moss, or a skin disease."