I have become an orchid washed in on the salt white beach. Memory, what can I make of it now that might please you- this life, already wasted and still strewn with miracles? — Mary Ruefle Copy Share Image
Now I will give you a piece of advice. I will tell you something that I absolutely believe you should do, and if you… — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
The industrial world destroys nature not because it doesn’t love it but because it is not afraid of it. — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
I remember I was a child, and when I grew up I was a poet. It all happened at sixty miles an hour and… — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
Yes, the mistrust of poetry has a long history, for a variety of reasons, but they all come down to sentiment and invention over… — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
“If there is any irreverence in my own work, I hope it is the irreverence I bear in mistrusting my own sincere self, which… — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
We are all one question, and the best answer seems to be love—a connection between things. — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
Every creative act is an act of hypocrisy and violence. You may have to think about it for a while, but I am sure… — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
I have become an orchid washed in on the salt white beach. Memory, what can I make of it now that might please you-… — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
Irreverence is a way of playing hooky and remaining present at the same time. — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
The origins of poetry are clearly rooted in obscurity, in secretiveness, in incantation, in spells that must at once invoke and protect, tell the… — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
There is a world which poets cannot seem to enter. It is the world everybody else lives in. And the only thing poets seem… — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
the wasting of time is the most personal, most private, most intimate form of conversation with oneself, as well as with another. — Mary Ruefle Copy Share
