Sara Teasdale Quotes

There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.

I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Take love when love is given.

No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.

My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.

It is strange how often a heart must be broken Before the years can make it wise.

I found more joy in sorrow than you could find in joy.

The leaves fall patiently Nothing remembers or grieves The river takes to the sea The yellow drift of leaves.

Wisdom is not acquired save as the result of investigation.

My heart is a garden tired with autumn.

Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

Only by love is life made real.

When I can look life in the eyes, grown calm and very coldly wise, life will have given me the truth, and taken in exchange - my youth.

Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children's faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.

Life is a frail moth flying Caught in the web of the years that pass.

One by one, like leaves from a tree, / All my faiths have forsaken me.

What we have never had, remains; It is the things we have that go.

Though I know he loves me, tonight my heart is sad; his kiss was not so wonderful as all the dreams I had.

I shall gather myself into my self again, I shall take my scattered selves and make them one.

Oh Earth, you gave me all I have, I love you, I love you, - oh what have IThat I can give you in return - Except my body after I die?

It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes;The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks.

I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful when rain bends down the bough; And I shall be more silent and cold hearted than you are now.

I am the pool of gold When sunset burns and dies-- You are my deepening skies; Give me your stars to hold

Spend all you have for loveliness.

Beauty, more than bitterness, makes the heart break.

There in the windy flood of morning Longing lifted its weight from me, Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering, Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.

look for a lovely thing and you will find it, it is not far, it never will be far

My soul is a dark ploughed field In the cold rain; My soul is a broken field Ploughed by pain.

Joy was a flame in me Too steady to destroy. Lithe as a bending reed, Loving the storm that sways her

Oh who can tell the range of joy or set the bounds of beauty?

Call him wise whose actions, words, and steps are all a clear because to a clear why.

Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill,/ In the dawn clouds flying,/ How good to go, light into light, and still/ Giving light, dying.

Of my own spirit let me be in sole though feeble mastery.

It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.

I try to catch at many a tuneLike petals of light fallen from the moon,Broken and bright on a dark lagoon,But they float away - for who can holdYouth, or perfume or the moon's gold?

A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love; The world is waiting for the spring.

There's nothing half so real in life as the things you've done... inexorably, unalterably done.

The window-lights, myriads and myriads,Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers.

For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.

Love in my heart is a cry forever Lost as the swallow's flight, Seeking for you and never, never Stilled by the stars at night

Let this single hour atone For the theft of all of me

I could not be so sure of Spring / Save that it sings in me.

With my singing I can make, a refuge for my spirit's sake; a house of shining words, to be my fragile immortality.

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

The world is tired, the year is old, The faded leaves are glad to die.

The ache of empty arms was an old tale to you.

O beauty, are you not enough; why am I crying after love.

But what do I care, for love will be over so soon, Let my heart have its say and my mind stand idly by, For my mind is proud and strong enough to be silent, It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.

Make songs for Death as you would sing to Love -But you will not assuage him. He aloneOf all the gods will take no gifts from men.