How can I rest in the days of my slowness?
I've become a strange piece of flesh,
Nervous and cold, bird-furtive, whiskery,
With a cheek soft as a hound's ear.
What's left is light as a seed;
I need an old crone's knowing.

Another quote →

More quotes by Theodore Roethke

All Theodore Roethke quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Theodore Roethke (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.