I saw that worrying had come to nothing and gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
Why should I not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside, looking into the shining world? — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
it is a serious thing // just to be alive / on this fresh morning / in this broken world. — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
Every morning I walk like this around the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart ever close, I am as good… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
“from the poem Hum, Hum The resurrection of the morning. The mystery of the night. The hummingbird's wings. The excitement of thunder.… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
Hello, sun in my face. Hello you who made the morning and spread it over the fields...Watch, now, how I start the… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
It's very important to write things down instantly, or you can lose the way you were thinking out a line. I have… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
I do not live happily or comfortably With the cleverness of our times. The talk is all about computers, The news is… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
“It's very important to write things down instantly, or you can lose the way you were thinking out a line. I have… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
I GO DOWN TO THE SHORE I go down to the shore in the morning and depending on the hour the waves… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
And that is just the point... how the world, moist and beautiful, calls to each of us to make a new and… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
All night my heart makes its way however it can over the rough ground of uncertainties, but only until night meets and… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
There are things you can’t reach. But You can reach out to them, and all day long. The wind, the bird flying… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
Every spring I hear the thrush singing in the glowing woods he is only passing through. His voice is deep, then he… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
“A Thousand Mornings All night my heart makes its way however it can over the rough ground of uncertainties, but only until… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
Mornings at Blackwater" For years, every morning, I drank from Blackwater Pond. It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens and… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
Why I Wake Early Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who made the morning and spread it over the fields and… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
It's very important to write things down instantly, or you can lose the way you were thinking out a line. I have… — Mary Oliver Copy Share Image
Belief isn't always easy. But this much I have learned--- if not enough else--- to live with my eyes open. — Mary Oliver Copy Share
In this universe we are given two gifts: the ability to love and the ability to question. Which are, at the same time, the… — Mary Oliver Copy Share
Poetry is one of the original arts, and it began, as did all the fine arts, within the original wilderness of the earth. — Mary Oliver Copy Share
The dream of my life is to lie down by a slow river and stare at the light in the trees - to learn… — Mary Oliver Copy Share
“All important ideas must include the trees, the mountains, and the rivers. • To understand many things you must reach out of your own condition.” — Mary Oliver Copy Share
“Sometimes I think, were I just a little rougher made, I would go altogether to the woods—to my work entirely, and solitude, a few… — Mary Oliver Copy Share
“First Snow The snow began here this morning and all day continued, its white rhetoric everywhere calling us back to why, how, whence such beauty… — mary oliver Copy Share
“What can I say that I have not said before? So I’ll say it again. The leaf has a song in it. Stone is… — Mary Oliver Copy Share
There is nothing better than work. Work is also play; children know that. Children play earnestly as if it were work. But people grow… — Mary Oliver Copy Share
“Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something… — Mary Oliver Copy Share
“I stood like Adam in his lonely garden On that first morning, shaken out of sleep, Rubbing his eyes, listening, parting the leaves, Like… — Mary Oliver Copy Share
We all have a hungry heart, and one of the things we hunger for is happiness. So as much as I possibly could, I… — Mary Oliver Copy Share
