The difference between people and ideas is. . . only superficial.
Thou knowst the oer-eager vehemence of youth,How quick in temper, and in judgement weak.
We are quick to flare up, we races of men on the earth.
Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.
Beauty! Terrible Beauty! A deathless Goddess-- so she strikes our eyes!
I'm a white male, age 18 to 49. Everyone listens to me, no matter how dumb my suggestions are.
For I am yearning to visit the limits of the all-nurturing Earth, and Oceans, from whom the gods are sprung.
A woman cannot do the thing she ought, which means whatever perfect thing she can, in life, in art, in science, but she fears to let the perfect action take her part and rest there: she must prove what she can do before she does it, -- prate of woman's rights, of woman's mission, woman's function, till the men (who are prating, too, on their side) cry, A woman's function plainly is. . . to talk. Poor souls, they are very reasonably vexed!
The capacity for imaginative reflex, for moral risk in any human being is not limitless; on the contrary, it can be rapidly absorbed by fictions, and thus the cry in the poem may come to sound louder, more urgent, more real than the cry in the street outside. The death in the novel may move us more potently than the death in the next room. Thus there may be a covert, betraying link between the cultivation of aesthetic response and the potential of personal inhumanity.
For me, the most difficult thing is that I am learning melodies on guitar from some songs whose melodies were not meant to be played on guitar. Ever. They were intended mostly for keyboards or melodic percussion.
Most writers who leave their country physically have already left it mentally and emotionally.