Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart — of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart — of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart — of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart — of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart — of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
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Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart

— of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
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poe

More “Poe” Quotes

A poet is a man who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms, to be struck by lightning five or six times — Randall Jarrell
Speak against unconscious oppression,Speak against the tyranny of the unimaginative,Speak against bonds. — Ezra Pound
Time present and time pastAre both perhaps present in time futureAnd time future contained in time past. — T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets
I want to see thirstIn the syllables,Tough fireIn the sound;Feel through the darkFor the scream. — Pablo Neruda
Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed. — Richard Siken, Crush
I bring you with reverent handsThe books of my numberless dreams. — W.B. Yeats, The Wind Among the Reeds
first of all nothing will happen and a little laternothing will happen again — Leonard Cohen, Book of Longing
I do not know which to prefer,The beauty of inflectionsOr the beauty of innuendosThe blackbird whistlingOr just after. — Wallace Stevens
Maka pada suatu pagi hari ia ingin sekali menangis sambil berjalan tunduk sepanjang lorong itu. Ia ingin pagi itu hujan — Sapardi Djoko Damono
Never cry because you have mountains of problem in your hands to solve. Always smile because each problems will someday — Santosh Kalwar
when I am feelinglowall i have to do iswatch my catsand mycouragereturns — Charles Bukowski
Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance. — Anne Sexton