And over one more set of hills, along the sea, the last roses have opened their factories of sweetness and are giving it back to the world. If I had another life I would want to spend it all on some unstinting happiness.
Mary OliverThe three ingredients of poetry: the mystery of the universe, spiritual curiosity, the energy of language.
Mary OliverAnd I do not want anymore to be useful, to be docile, to lead / children out of the fields into the text / of civility, to teach them that they are (they are not) better than the grass.
Mary OliverWhat misery to be afraid of death. What wretchedness, to believe only in what can be proven.
Mary OliverI wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song where it falls down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery; I wanted to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was alive for a little while.
Mary Oliver