You've just got to have a sense of respect for the person you have children with. Anger doesn't help anybody. Ultimately you have to say forgiveness is important, and honoring what you had together is important. But it's easy to say and harder to do.
The bamboo is very much loved by the Zen poets for its tremendous quality of being hollow. Out of this hollowness of the bamboo, a flute can be made. The bamboo will not sing, but it can allow any song to pass through it.
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, and the women come out to cut up what remains, jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains and go to your gawd like a soldier.
Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
It is the false shame of fools to try to conceal wounds that have not healed.
The instinct of nearly all societies is to lock up anybody who is truly free. First, society begins by trying to beat you up. If this fails, they try to poison you. If this fails too, the finish by loading honors on your head.
It is good to realize that if love and peace can prevail on earth, and if we can teach our children to honor nature's gifts, the joys and beauties of the outdoors will be here forever.
What I need to do to heal myself and to be assuring and allay the fears of others and to heal them if they had any heart wounds from something I may have said.
He that studieth revenge keepeth his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well.
How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
For a man to attain to an eminent degree in learning costs him time, watching, hunger, nakedness, dizziness in the head, weakness in the stomach, and other inconveniences.
Bullfighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death and in which the degree of brilliance in the performance is left to the fighter's honor.
Irish poets, learn your trade, sing whatever is well made, scorn the sort now growing up all out of shape from toe to top.
Join with those who sing songs, tell stories, enjoy life... because happiness is contagious. Join those who walk with their heads high even when they have tears in their eyes. Avoid those who... have never shed a tear.
Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people.
Many a man curses the rain that falls upon his head, and knows not that it brings abundance to drive away the hunger.
Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.
There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.
I have been wounded like this since about half past eight this morning and I will tell you how it happened.
Everything human is pathetic. The secret source of humor itself is not joy but sorrow. There is no humor in heaven.
I ask people why they have deer heads on their walls. They always say because it's such a beautiful animal. There you go. I think my mother is attractive, but I have photographs of her.
I don't have space to enter into the examples or the history of this, so I'm left with having to make the bold statement that culture is extinct.
A fiance is neither this nor that: he's left one shore, but not yet reached the other.
There always are these nightmare people around. Ugh. Anyway, they're always bugging. And they did get some pictures of me. They're so stupid.
No bad man can be a good poet.