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“You can be sincere and still be stupid.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky

“Paths are made by walking”
― Franz Kafka

“Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter”
― John Keats, Ode On A Grecian Urn And Other Poems

“Two souls with but a single thought,
Two hearts that beat as one!”
― John Keats

“I want a brighter word than bright”
― John Keats

“The road to Emmaus is this world.”
― Franz Wright, God's Silence

“What is today鈥檚 date?
Who is the President?
How great a danger do you pose, on a scale of one to ten?
What does 鈥減eople who live in glass houses鈥� mean?
Every symphony is a suicide postponed, true or false?
Should each individual snowflake be held accountable for the avalanche?
Name five rivers.
What do you see yourself doing in ten minutes?
How about some lovely soft Thorazine music?
If you could have half an hour with your father, what would you say to him?
What should you do if I fall asleep?
Are you still following in his mastodon footsteps?
What is the moral of 鈥淢ary Had a Little Lamb鈥�?
What about his Everest shadow?
Would you compare your education to a disease so rare no one else has ever had it, or the
deliberate extermination of indigenous populations?
Which is more puzzling, the existence of suffering or its frequent absence?
Should an odd number be sacrificed to the gods of the sky, and an even to those of the
underworld, or vice versa?
Would you visit a country where nobody talks?
What would you have done differently?
Why are you here?”
― Franz Wright, Wheeling Motel

“Auto-Lullaby

Think of 鈥娾�奱 sheep
knitting a sweater;
think of 鈥娾�妝our life
getting better and better.

Think of 鈥娾�妝our cat
asleep in a tree;
think of鈥娾�� that spot
where you once skinned your knee.

Think of鈥娾�� a bird
that stands in your palm.
Try to remember
the Twenty-first Psalm.

Think of 鈥娾�奱 big pink horse
galloping south;
think of鈥娾�� a fly, and
close your mouth.

If 鈥娾�妝ou feel thirsty, then
drink from your cup.
The birds will keep singing
until they wake up.”
― Franz Wright

“Everyone agrees.
The dead singers have the best voices.
At four o'clock in the morning

the dead singers have the best voices.”
― Franz Wright

“Your words are spirit
and life.
Only say one
and he will be healed.”
― Franz Wright, Walking to Martha's Vineyard: Poems

“Seven Versions"

1. The Kiss

Massive languor, languor hammered;
Sentient languor, languor dissected;
Languor deserted, reignite your sidereal fires;
Holier languor, arise from love.
The wood鈥檚 owl has come home.

2. Beyond Sunlight

I can鈥檛 shakle one of your ankles
as if you were a falcon, but
nothing can prevent me
from following, no matter how far, even
beyond sunlight where Jesus becomes visible:
I鈥檒l follow, I will wait, I will never give up
until I understand
why you are going away from me.

3. A Man Wound His Watch

In the darkness the man wound his watch before secreting it under his pillow. Then he went to
sleep. Outside, the wind was blowing. You who comprehend the repercussions of the faintest
gesture鈥攜ou will understand. A man, his watch, the wind. What else is there?

4. For Which There Is No Name

Let me have what the tree has
and what it can never lose,
let me have it
and lose it again,
blurred lines the wind draws with the darkness
it gets from summer nights, formless
indescribable darkness. Either
give me back my gladness, or
the courage to think about how it was lost to me.
Give me back, not what I see, but my sight.
Let me meet you again owning nothing
but what is in the past. Let me inherit
the very thing I am forbidden.
And let me continue to seek,
though I know it is futile, the only heaven
that I could endure:
unhurting you.

5. The Composer

People said he was overly fond of the good life and ate like a pig. Yet the servant who brought
him his chocolate in bed would sometimes find him weeping quietly, both plump pink hands
raised slightly and conducting, evidently, in small brief genuflective feints. He experienced the
reality of death as music.

6. Detoxification

And I refuse to repent of my drug use. It gave me my finest and happiest hours.

And I have been wondering: will I use drugs again?

I will if my work wants me to. And if drugs want me to.

7. And Suddenlty It鈥檚 Night

You stand there alone, like everyone else, the center of the world鈥檚
attention,
a ray of sunlight passing through you.
And suddenly it鈥檚 night.

Franz Wright, iO: A Journal of New American Poetry, Vol I Issue I . (May 15th, 2011)
The individual sections of 鈥淪even Versions鈥� ia based, loosely鈥攕ome very loosely鈥攐n poems by Rene Char, Rumi, Yannis Ritsos, Natan Zach, G眉nther Eich, Jean Cocteau, and Salvatore Quasimodo.”
― Franz Wright

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”
― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

“What greater gift than the love of a cat.”
― Charles Dickens

“And here in the dust and dirt, O here, the lilies of His love appear.”
― Henry Vaughan

“I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.”
― Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

“I mustn't look at you too much, or I won't be able to take my eyes off you at all.”
― Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

“Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

“I didn't want to kiss you goodbye 鈥� that was the trouble 鈥� I wanted to kiss you good night 鈥� and there's a lot of difference.”
― Ernest Hemingway

“So avoid using the word 鈥榲ery鈥� because it鈥檚 lazy. A man is not very tired, he is exhausted. Don鈥檛 use very sad, use morose. Language was invented for one reason, boys - to woo women - and, in that endeavor, laziness will not do. It also won鈥檛 do in your essays.”
― N.H. Kleinbaum, Dead Poets Society

“When you read, don't just consider what the author thinks, consider what you think”
― Tom Schulman, Dead Poets Society: The Screenplay

“I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.”
― Tom Schulman, Dead Poets Society

“I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way.”
― Tom Schulman, Dead Poets Society

“TODD: Well, listen, Neil. I-I appreciate this concern, but I-I'm not like you.All right? You, you, you say things and people listen. I'm, I'm not like that.
NEIL: Don't you think you could be?
TODD: No! I--I, I don't know, but that's not the point. The, the, the point is that there's nothing you can do about it, so you can just butt out. I can take care of myself just fine. All right?
NEIL: No.
TODD: What do you mean, "no"?
NEIL: No.”
― Tom Schulman, Dead Poets Society

“You must strive to find your own voice, boys, and the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all.”
― N.H. Kleinbaum, Dead Poets Society

“Because no matter what anyone tells you, words and ideas have the power to change the world.”
― N.H. Kleinbaum, Dead Poets Society

“And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn鈥檛 crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I鈥檝e never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands? He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“The all-night convenience store's empty
and no one is behind the counter.
You open and shut the glass door a few times
causing a bell to go off,
but no one appears. You only came
to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe
a copy of yesterday's newspaper --
finally you take one and leave
thirty-five cents in its place.
It is freezing, but it is a good thing
to step outside again:
you can feel less alone in the night,
with lights on here and there
between the dark buildings and trees.
Your own among them, somewhere.
There must be thousands of people
in this city who are dying
to welcome you into their small bolted rooms,
to sit you down and tell you
what has happened to their lives.
And the night smells like snow.
Walking home for a moment
you almost believe you could start again.
And an intense love rushes to your heart,
and hope. It's unendurable, unendurable.”
― Franz Wright

“And the night smells like snow. Walking home for a moment you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It鈥檚 unendurable, unendurable”
― Franz Wright

“If death is the absence of life, then death's death is life.”
― Sun Ra