And what a congress of stinks!- Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks, Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.
Theodore RoethkeRead
I teach my sighs to lengthen into songs.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote suggests transforming sorrow or struggles into beautiful expressions, like songs.
In this quote, Theodore Roethke emphasizes the power of creativity as a means to cope with one's emotions. Instead of allowing sighs, which symbolize sadness or distress, to consume him, he teaches them to evolve into songs, representing joy and artistic expression. This reflects the idea that through art and creativity, we can find beauty and meaning in our struggles.
Themes
ArtCreativityExpressionSorrowEmotionsSongs
In practice
Example use cases
In a poetry reading, to inspire others to find beauty in their pain.
More from Theodore Roethke
All quotes βMy Papa's Waltz: The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.
Theodore RoethkeRead
Art is our defense against hysteria and death.
Theodore RoethkeRead
The indignity of it!-_x000D_ _x000D_ With everything blooming above me,_x000D_ _x000D_ Lilies, pale-pink cyclamen, roses,_x000D_ _x000D_ Whole fields lovely and inviolate,-_x000D_ _x000D_ Me down in the fetor of weeds,_x000D_ _x000D_ Crawling on all fours,_x000D_ _x000D_ Alive, in a slippery grave.
Theodore RoethkeRead
By daily dying, I have come to be.
Theodore RoethkeRead
The stones were sharp, The wind came at my back; Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat.
Theodore RoethkeRead
Similar quotes
Sometimes the beauty is easy. Sometimes you don't have to try at all. Sometimes you can hear the wind blow in a handshake. Sometimes there's poetry written right on the bathroom wall.
Ani DifrancoRead
Gangsta Rap is dead. I've moved on. And the raps that I'm rappin to my community shouldn't be filled with rage? They shouldn't be filled with same attrocities that they gave me? The media they don't talk about it, so in my raps I have to talk about it, and it seems foreign because there's no one else talking about it.
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That isn't writing at all, it's typing.
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I like my music with the rinds and the seeds and pulp left in.
Tom WaitsRead
Great music is its own movie, already. And the challenge, as a music fan, is to keep the song as powerful as it wants to be, to not tamper with it and to somehow give it a home.
Cameron CroweRead