200 match(es) found in quotations

Anne Sexton :
I come back to your youth, my Nana, as if I might clean off the mad woman you became, withered and constipated, howling into your own earphone.
[Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "Walking in Paris."]
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William Shakespeare :
I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad. I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: We'll no more meet, no more see one another. But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter— Or rather a disease that's in my flesh, Which I must needs call mine.
[William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Lear, in King Lear, act 2, sc. 4, l. 218-23.]
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Ralph Waldo Emerson :
And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, The frolic architecture of the snow.
[Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), U.S. poet, essayist. The Snow-Storm (l. 23-28). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.]
Read more quotations about / on: snow, wind, sun, night, work, world
William Shakespeare :
Why, he was met even now As mad as the vexed sea, singing aloud, Crowned with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn.
[William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Cordelia, in King Lear, act 4, sc. 4, l. 1-6. The mad king has crowned himself with useless ("idle") weeds.]
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Robert Lowell :
All night I've held your hand, as if you had a fourth time faced the kingdom of the mad— its hackneyed speech, its homicidal eye— and dragged me home alive. . . .
[Robert Lowell (1917-1977), U.S. poet. Man and Wife (l. 8-12). . . Norton Anthology of American Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Nina Baym and others, eds. (2d ed., 1985) W. W. Norton & Company.]
Read more quotations about / on: home, night, time
Mark Alexander Boyd :
Unhappy is the man for evermair That tills the sand and sawis in the air; But twice unhappier is he, I lairn, That feidis in his hairt a mad desire And follows on a woman thro the fire, Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn.
[Mark Alexander Boyd (1563-1601), Scottish poet. Fra Bank to Bank, Fra Wood to Wood I Rin (l. 9-14). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.]
Read more quotations about / on: fire, woman
James Thomson :
The savage soul of game is up at once— The pack full-opening various, the shrill horn Resounded from the hills, the neighing steed Wild for the chase, and the loud hunter's shout— O'er a weak, harmless, flying creature, all Mixed in mad tumult and discordant joy.
[James Thomson (1700-1748), Scottish poet. Autumn (l. 71-75). . . Fellow Mortals; an Anthology of Animal Verse. Roy Fuller, comp. (1981) MacDonald and Evans Ltd.]
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Hilda Doolittle :
We are a little dizzy and quite mad, but we have had strange visitations from the stratosphere.
[Hilda Doolittle (1886-1961), U.S. poet. "Christmas 1944."]
William Shakespeare :
My mother had a maid called Barbary; She was in love, and he she loved proved mad, And did forsake her. She had a song of "Willow," An old thing 'twas, but it expressed her fortune, And she died singing it. That song tonight Will not go from my mind.
[William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Desdemona, in Othello, act 4, sc. 3, l. 26-31. The willow was the proverbial badge of a forsaken lover.]
Read more quotations about / on: song, mother, love
William Butler Yeats :
You ask what makes me sigh, old friend, What makes me shudder so? I shudder and I sigh to think That even Cicero And many-minded Homer were Mad as the mist and snow.
[William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "XVIII. Mad as the Mist and Snow."]
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