Quotes by
Louise Glück |
1943-2023 , American poet, Nobel 2020

In 2020, she was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature.
22 quotes | 1,283 visits |
Quotations
• | The master said You must write what you see. But what I see does not move me. The master answered Change what you see. 4 |
• | At the end of my suffering there was a door. 4 |
• | To raise the veil. To see what you're saying goodbye to. 3 |
• | The advantage of poetry over life is that poetry, if it is sharp enough, may last. |
• | The poem will not survive on content but through voice. By voice I mean the style of thought, for which a style of speech never convincingly substitutes. |
• | Intense love always leads to mourning. |
• | The love of form is a love of endings. |
• | I am attracted to ellipsis, to the unsaid, to suggestion, to eloquent, deliberate silence. The unsaid, for me, exerts great power: often I wish an entire poem could be made in this vocabulary. It is analogous to the unseen. |
• | Honor the words that enter and attach to your brain. |
Quotes in Verse
• | At first I saw you everywhere. Now only in certain things, at longer intervals. 6 |
• | Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer. 5 |
• | We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory. 5 |
• | The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams. |
• | Birth, not death, is the hard loss. |
• | You know what despair is; then winter should have meaning for you. |
• | That's why I'm not to be trusted. Because a wound to the heart is also a wound to the mind. |
• | What was difficult was the travel, which, on arrival, is forgotten. |
• | Like a child, the earth's going to sleep, or so the story goes. But I'm not tired, it says. And the mother says, You may not be tired but I'm tired. |
• | I think I can remember being dead. Many times, in winter, I approached Zeus. Tell me, I would ask him, how can I endure the earth? |
• | From the beginning of time, in childhood, I thought that pain meant I was not loved. It meant I loved. |
• | Even before you touched me, I belonged to you; all you had to do was look at me. |
• | My memory is like a basement filled with old papers: nothing ever changes. |