Poetry is a fireplace in summer or a fan in winter.
Robert HassRead
Sometimes from this hillside just after sunset The rim of the sky takes on a tinge Of the palest green, like the flesh of a cucumber When you peel it carefully.
Interpretation
The quote describes a beautiful and fleeting moment in nature, highlighting the delicate colors visible at sunset.
In this quote, Robert Hass captures the enchanting beauty of a sunset from a hillside, comparing the soft green hues of the sky to the tender flesh of a cucumber. It evokes an appreciation for natural wonders and the subtle details in the world around us, encouraging mindfulness and reflection on such ephemeral moments.
In practice
This quote can be used in a speech about the importance of appreciating nature's beauty.
Poetry is a fireplace in summer or a fan in winter.
Take the time to write. You can do your life's work in half an hour a day.
I think that the job of poetry, its political job, is to refresh the idea of justice, which is going dead in us all the time.
There are moments when the body is as numinous as words, days that are the good flesh continuing. Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings, saying blackberry, blackberry, blackberry.
When I was younger, I was so crazy about poetry that I didn't notice who was noticing. It seemed to me so tremendous and large.
Writing is an incessant process of discovery.
Nature does not know extinction; all it knows is transformation. ... Everything science has taught me-and continues to teach me-strengthens my belief in the continuity of our spiritual existence after death. Nothing disappears without a trace.
Chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans have been living for hundreds of thousands of years in their forest, living fantastic lives, never overpopulating, never destroying the forest. I would say that they have been in a way more successful than us as far as being in harmony with the environment.
Protecting our future on this planet depends on the conscious evolution of our species.
Anybody can dig a hole and plant a tree. But make sure it survives. You have to nurture it, you have to water it, you have to keep at it until it becomes rooted so it can take care or itself. There are so many enemies of trees.
Removing the weeds, putting fresh soil about the bean stems, and encouraging this weed which I had sown, making the yellow soil express its summer thought in bean leaves and blossoms rather than in wormwood and piper and millet grass, making the earth say beans instead of grass, - this was my daily work.
The fact that the colors in the flower have evolved in order to attract insects to pollinate it is interesting; that means insects can see the colors. That adds a question: does this aesthetic sense we have also exist in lower forms of life?
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