Elizabeth Bishop

(8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979 / Worcester, Massachusetts)

Elizabeth Bishop Quotes

  • ''“Why shouldnt we, so generally addicted to the gigantic, at last have some small works of art, some short poems, short pieces of music [...], some intimate, low-voiced, and delicate things in our mostly huge and roaring, glaring world?” ''
    Elizabeth Bishop
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  • ''“The armored cars of dreams, contrived to let us do so many a dangerous thing.” ''
    Elizabeth Bishop
  • ''“The art of losing isnt hard to master.” ''
    Elizabeth Bishop
  • ''“All the untidy activity continues, awful but cheerful.”''
    Elizabeth Bishop
  • ''“Being a poet is one of the unhealthier jobs--no regular hours, so many temptations!” ''
    Elizabeth Bishop
  • ''“I knew that nothing stranger had ever happened, that nothing stranger could ever happen.” ''
    Elizabeth Bishop
  • ''“Each night he must be carried through artificial tunnels and dream recurrent dreams.
    Just as the ties recur beneath his train, these underlie his rushing brain. He does not dare look out the window,for the third rail, the unbroken draught of poison, runs there beside him. He regards it as a disease
    he has inherited the susceptibility to. He has to keep
    his hands in his pockets, as others must wear mufflers.” ''
    Elizabeth Bishop, The Complete Poems, 1927-1979
  • ''“...what the Man-Moth fears most he must do..” ''
    Elizabeth Bishop
  • ''“Icebergs behoove the soul (both being self-made from elements least visible) to see themselves: fleshed, fair, erected, indivisible.” ''
    Elizabeth Bishop
  • ''“Is it right to be watching strangers in a play / in this strangest of theatres? / What childishness is it that while theres a breath of life / in our bodies, we are determined to rush / to see the sun the other way around? ”''
    Elizabeth Bishop

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Best Poem of Elizabeth Bishop

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ...

Read the full of One Art

Rain Towards Morning

The great light cage has broken up in the air,
freeing, I think, about a million birds
whose wild ascending shadows will not be back,
and all the wires come falling down.
No cage, no frightening birds; the rain
is brightening now. The face is pale
that tried the puzzle of their prison
and solved it with an unexpected kiss,
whose freckled unsuspected hands alit.

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