The heavy sensual shoulders, the thighs, the blood-born flesh and earth turning into color, rocks into their crystals, water to sound, fire to form: life flickers uncounted into the supple arms of love. — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
“In our time, they say there is no penalty for writing poems. They say this. This is the penalty.” — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
“In all the cities of this year I have longed for the other city.” — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings. Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest. The blessing is in the… — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
Never to despise in myself what I have been taught to despise. Nor to despise the other. Not to despise the it. To make… — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
The statement of ideas in a poem may have to do with logic. More profoundly, it may be identified with the emotional progression of… — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
Editors have grown timid... a brave advance is almost inevitably followed by quick back-tracking, generally by dilution and debasement of the original intention. — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
As we live our truths, we will communicate across all barriers, speaking for the sources of peace. Peace that is not lack of war,… — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
the truth of a poem is its form and its content, its music and its meaning are the same. — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
However confused the scene of our life appears, however torn we may be who now do face that scene, it can be faced, and… — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
The advertising men made it clear that there were two ways of looking at ideas in a war against fascism. Those of us who… — Muriel Rukeyser Copy Share Image
