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The soul shrinks
From all that it is about to remember,
From the punctual rape of every blessed day,
And cries,
"Oh, let there be nothing on earth but laundry,
Nothing but rosy hands in the rising steam
And clear dances done in the sight of heaven."

— Richard Wilbur

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More quotes by Richard Wilbur

What is the opposite of two? A lonely me, a lonely you.

Opposites (1973)

A thrush, because I'd been wrong,
Burst rightly into song
In a world not vague, not lonely,
Not governed by me only.

Writing poetry is talking to oneself; yet it is a mode of talking to oneself in which the self disappears; and the products something that, though it may not be for everybody, is about everybody.

National Book Award Acceptance Speech (1957)

Hebetude. It is a graph of a theme that flings
The dancer kneeling on nothing into the wings,
And Nijinsky hadn't the words to make the laws
For learning to loiter in air; he merely said,
"I merely leap and pause."

We milk the cow of the world, and as we do
We whisper in her ear, "You are not true."

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Attribution

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