Best 17 quotes of Charles Wright on MyQuotes

Charles Wright

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    Everyone knows this. The voyage into the interior is all that matters, Whatever your ride.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    How many times can summer turn to fall in one life?

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    How many years have slipped through our hands?
At least as many as the constellations we still can identify.
The quarter moon, like a light skiff,
                                                         floats out of the mist-remnants
Of last night’s hard rain.
It, too, will slip through our fingers
                                                        with no ripple, without us in it.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    How sweet the past is, no matter how wrong, or how sad. How sweet is yesterday's noise

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    If you want great tranquility/ It's hard work and a long walk

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    It may not be written in any book, but it is written - You can't go back, you can't repeat the unrepeatable.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    It's linkage I'm talking about, and harmonies and structures, And all the various things that lock our wrists to the past.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    Our dreams are luminous, a cast fire upon the world. Morning arrives and that's it. Sunlight darkens the earth.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    Poetry is the dark side of the moon.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    Snub end of a dismal year, deep in the dwarf orchard, The sky with its undercoat of blackwash and point stars, I stand in the dark and answer to My life, this shirt I want to take off, which is on fire . . .

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    The ache for anything is a thick dust in the heart.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    We've all led raucous lives, some of them inside, some of them out. But only the poem you leave behind is what's important. Everyone knows this. The voyage into the interior is all that matters, Whatever your ride. Sometimes I can't sit still for all the asininities I read. Give me the hummingbird, who has to eat sixty times His own weight a day just to stay alive. Now that's a life on the edge.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    What makes us leave what we love best? What is it inside us that keeps erasing itself When we need it most, That sends us into uncertainty for its own sake And holds us flush there until we begin to love it And have to begin again? What is it within our own lives we decline to live Whenever we find it, making our days unendurable, And nights almost visionless? I still don't know yet, but I do it.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    Arrange your unutterable alphabet, my man, / and hold tight. / It's all you've got, a naming of things, and not so beautiful.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    Meanwhile, the mole goes on with its subterranean daydreams, The dogs lie around like rugs

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    That I isn't I anymore. It's someone else, the character who plays me, someone who's a better actor than I could ever be. I'm just the writer. Someone else is starring in my part. I remember him just well enough to try to write about him. A case of the negative sublime. I guess art's always after the fact. The real is imaginary, or imagined. Reconstitution, reconstruction, representation is all we're left with. Autobiography becomes biography in the end.

  • By Anonym
    Charles Wright

    We filigree and we baste. But what do the dead care for the fringe of words, Safe in their suits of milk? What do they care for the honk and flash of a new style? And who is to say if the inch of snow in our hearts Is rectitude enough?