Best 26 quotes of Margarita Engle on MyQuotes

I don't understand the whole thrilling verse, but I love the way poetry turns ordinary words into winged things that rise up and soar!

I feel certain that words can be as human as people, alive with the breath of compassion.

If only the peace I feel right nowcould be stored up and released laterwhen cruelty surrounds mein the darkduring nightmares.

If we knew how to find the lost, we would know how to rediscover the parts of our minds left behind in battle.

In Latin America in general, and Cuba in particular, poets have been the inspiration behind struggles for independence, struggles for freedom of all sorts.

Joy and truth both have a way of peeking through any dark curtain.

Opinions. Ideas. Possibilities. So many! How can I choose? Between bursts of lightning-swift energy, I enjoy peaceful moments when the whole world seems to be a flowing river of verse and all I have to do is learn how to swim.

That is how I think of peace and peace of mind-as timid birds that we have to search for, not bold ones that come looking for us.

When Reason Breaks is infused with a rare blend of suspense and sensitivity, despair and hope. The poetic spirit of Emily Dickinson shines through the gloom of daily struggles faced by modern teens, as they discover the possibilities where they dwell.

At the steamy train station in New Orleans, horrifying signs above drinking fountains announce: COLORED. WHITE. Confused, I drink out of both. Why should it matter if a stream of coo, refreshing water pours into my mouth or another?

Books are enchanted. Books help me travel. Books help me breathe.

Can it be true that freedom only exists when it is a treasure, shared by all?

Do I have to admit that I'm half Cuban and half American, or should I go even further, and explain that Dad's parents were born in the Ukraine, part of Soviet Russia? Or am I just entirely American, all the fractions left behind by immigration from faraway nations?

Hatred must be a hard thing to learn.

I can't understand why dark northern soldiers and light ones are seperated into different brigades. The dead are all buried together in hasty mass graves, bones touching.

I enjoy peaceful moments when the whole world seems to be flowing river of verse and all I have to do is learn how to swim.

It's a sight I plan to remember, this spontaneous unity when faced with disaster.

Night simply drapes itself over the day As if someone had lowered a curtain. The sky glitters and moves, Filled with shooting stars and fireflies.

Once I've mastered the art of pretending that I don't care what other kids think of me, I start to pay attention in class, discovering that I love library research for history term papers about ancient lands. It feels like a form of time travel.

Seventh grade. Eleven years old. A bookworm-misfit with long black braids, childish white socks, pointy pink glasses, and no courage for flirting. It's doesn't take long to learn that I'm ridiculous.

Slavery all day, and then, suddenly, by nightfall- freedom!

The child tells me her grandmother showed her how to cure sadness by sucking the juice of an orange, while standing on a beach. Toss the peels onto a wave. Watch the sadness float away.

There is no place more lonely Than a rich man's home.

The whole world's safety depends on the words of two men who are enemies.

When all else fails, trust the library.

Without even trying to be a teacher, Fredrika is teaching us, Showing us how to see things in new ways Instead of always thinking The same old thoughts That have been passed along by strangers Day after day, year after year Without any spirit of amazement Or wonder,