Quotes from Mary Oliver

It is six A.M., and I am working. I am absentminded, reckless, heedless of social obligations, etc. It is as it must be. The tire goes flat, the tooth falls out, there will be a hundred meals without mustard. The poem gets written. I have wrestled with the angel and I am stained with light and I have no shame. Neither do I have guilt.

Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a little sunshine, a little rain. Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from one boot to another—why don't you get going? For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees. And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money, I don't even want to come in out of the rain.

As for the body, it is solid and strong and curious and full of detail: it wants to polish itself; it wants to love another body; it is the only vessel in the world that can hold, in a mix of power and sweetness: words, song, gesture, passion, ideas, ingenuity, devotion, merriment, vanity, and virtue.

The patterns of our lives reveal us. Our habits measure us.

How heron comes It is a negligence of the mind not to notice how at dusk heron comes to the pond and stands there in his death robes, perfect servant of the system, hungry, his eyes full of attention, his wings pure light

LONELINESS I too have known loneliness. I too have known what it is to feel misunderstood, rejected, and suddenly not at all beautiful. Oh, mother earth, your comfort is great, your arms never withhold. It has saved my life to know this. Your rivers flowing, your roses opening in the morning. Oh, motions of tenderness!

The Morning Paper Read one newspaper daily (the morning edition is the best for by evening you now that you at least have lived through another day) and let the disasters, the unbelievable yet approved decisions soak in. I don't need to name the countries, ours among them. What keeps us from falling down, our faces to the ground; ashamed, ashamed?

For years and years I struggled just to love my life. And then the butterfly rose, weightless, in the wind. Don't love you life too much, it said, and vanished into the world.

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing. And gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang.

Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished. (from The Messenger)

Where has this cold come from? "It comes from the death of your friend." Will I always, from now on, be this cold? "No, it will diminish. But always it will be with you." What is the reason for it? "Wasn't your friendship always as beautiful as a flame?

What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? Would would this would be like without dogs?

I would like people to remember of me, how inexhaustible was her mindfulness.

This is to say nothing against afternoons, evenings or even midnight. Each has its portion of the spectacular. But dawn — dawn is a gift. Much is revealed about a person about his or her passion, or indifference, to this opening of the door of day. No one who loves dawn, and is abroad to see it, could be a stranger to me.

All things are meltable, and replaceable. Not at this moment, but soon enough, we are lambs and we are leaves, and we are stars, and the shining, mysterious pond water itself.

When it over, I want to say:all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. When it's over, I don't want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular,and real. I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument. I don't want to end up simply having visited this world. from When the death comes

because my life without you would be a place of parched and broken trees

how could there be a day in your whole life that doesn't have its splash of happiness?

No, I'd never been to this country before. No, I didn't know where the roads would lead me. No, I didn't intend to turn back.

Knowledge has entertained me and it has shaped me and it has failed me. Something in me still starves.

There is nothing more pathetic than caution when headlong might save a life, even, possibly, your own.

That's the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. "Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?

Okay, I said. But remember, you can't fix everything in the world for everybody. "However," said Ricky, "you can't do anything at all unless you begin. Haven't I heard you say that once or twice, or maybe a hundred times?

Let me keep company always with those who say "Look!" and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.