Louise Bogan Quotes - Page 2

No more pronouncements on lousy verse. No more hidden competition. No more struggling not to be a square.

But is there any reason to believe that a woman's spiritual fibre is less sturdy than a man's? Is it not possible for a woman to come to terms with herself if not with the world; to withdraw more and more, as time goes on, her own personality from her productions; to stop childish fears of death and eschew charming rebellions against facts?

I hope that one or two immortal lyrics will come out of all this tumbling around.

Song, like a wing, tears through my breast, my side, And madness chooses out my voice again, Again.

O remember In your narrowing dark hours That more things move Than blood in the heart.

The women rest their tired half-healed hearts; they are almost well.

Hate does not present many choices; if hate is your solution, you are fairly certain to hate all phemonena with equal joy and intensity, without troubling to drag into prominence any one feature from the loathsome whole.

Up from the bronze, I saw Water without a flaw Rush to its rest in air Reach to its rest, and fall.

Once form has been smashed, it has been smashed for good, and once a forbidden subject has been released, it has been released for good.

It is almost impossible for the poetess, once laurelled, to take off the crown for good or to reject values and taste of those who tender it.

O God, in the dream the terrible horse began To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows.

The intellectual is a middle-class product; if he is not born into the class he must soon insert himself into it, in order to exist. He is the fine nervous flower of the bourgeoisie.

O fortunate bride, who never again will become elated after childbirth! O lucky older wife, who has been cured of feeling unwanted!

The measured blood beats out the year's delay.

True revolutions in art restore more than they destroy.

All art, in spite of the struggles of some critics to prove otherwise, is based on emotion and projects emotion.

The fact, and the intuition or logic about the fact, are severe coordinates in fiction. In the short story they must cross with hair-line precision.

The art of one period cannot be approached through the attitudes (emotional or intellectual) of another.