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Mary Oliver

"This is what I have. The dull hangover of waiting, the blush of my heart on the damp grass,the flower-faced moon. A gull broods on the shore where a moment ago there were two. Softly my right hand fondles my left hand as though it were you."

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"This is what I have. The dull hangover of waiting, the blush of my heart on the damp grass,the flower-faced moon. A gull broods on the shore where a moment ago there were two. Softly my right hand fondles my left hand as though it were you."

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"Love and hate, despite their polar opposites, are both feelings that are induced by passion. I can handle that. It's the indifference I don't know how to process."

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Amber Hurdle

"My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand."

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"Down the road of hate, at every busted corner lurks the need for love."

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"The good news is that opportunities for love enter our lives unpredictably, whether or not we've perfected self-compassion or befriended our inner critic."

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"Nothing in my life has ever felt so good, yet hurt so achingly bad."

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Amber Hurdle

"Fear and Love are the two emotional pillars of survival."

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"It's amazing what the sound of a voice you've been longing to hear can do to your heart. He spoke five words just now, but in the time it took him to speak those five words, my heart was shredded and minced, then placed back inside my chest with the expectation that it should somehow know how to beat again."

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Amber Hurdle

"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace."

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Amber Hurdle

"More and more, the hardest part of crying is when I can't stop."

Explore more quotes by Mary Oliver

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Mary Oliver
"Language is rich, and malleable. It is a living, vibrant material, and every part of a poem works in conjunction with every other part - the content, the place, the diction, the rhythm, the tone-as well as the very sliding, floating, thumping, rapping sounds of it."
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Mary Oliver
"I learned from Whitman that the poem is a temple - or a green field - a place to enter, and in which to feel. Only in a secondary way is it an intellectual thing - an artifact, a moment of seemly and robust wordiness -wonderful as that part of it is. I learned that the poem was made not just to exist, but to speak -to be company. It was everything that was needed, when everything was needed."
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Mary Oliver
"Attention is the beginning of devotion."
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Mary Oliver
"Love, love, love, says Percy.And hurry as fast as you canalong the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust.Then, go to sleep.Give up your body heat, your beating heart.Then, trust."
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Mary Oliver
"You are young. So you know everything. You leap into the boat and begin rowing. But, listen to me. Without fanfare, without embarrassment, without doubt,I talk directly to your soul. Listen to me."
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Mary Oliver
"Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers.Let me keep company always with those who say "Look!" and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads."
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Mary Oliver
"Poetry is one of the ancient arts, and it began as did all the fine arts, within the original wilderness of the earth."
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Mary Oliver
"A carpenter is hired- a roof repaired, a porch built. Everything that can be fixed. June, July, August. Everyday we hear their laughter. I think of the painting by van Gogh, the man in the chair. Everything wrong, and nowhere to go. His hands over his eyes."
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Mary Oliver
"I have a little dog who likes to nap with me.He climbs on my body and puts his face in my neck.He is sweeter than soap.He is more wonderful than a diamond necklace,which can't even bark..."
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Mary Oliver
"I could not be a poet without the natural world. Someone else could. But not me. For me the door to the woods is the door to the temple."
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