Louise Bogan Quotes

I have been sitting watching that ever since I came back, the continuous variations of light and shadow.

Bless... the two painting masters who first pointed out to me that there was coming and going among trees, that there was sunlight in shadows.

Lie down and listen to the crabgrass grow.

A slight sound at evening lifts me up by the ears, and makes life seem inexpressibly serene and grand. It may be Uranus, or it may be in the shutter.

Suddenly a mist of green on the trees, as quiet as thought.

So still were the big woods where I sat, sound might not yet have been born.

Calm and serene The sound of a cicada Penetrates the rock.

The beauty of the natural world lies in the details.

I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.

The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose.

See, the night doth enfold us! See, all the world lies sleeping!

Anything, everything, can be learned if you can just get yourself in a little patch of real ground, real nature, real wood, real anything ? and just sit still and watch.

The true call of the desert, of the mountains, or the sea, is their silence - free of the networks of dead speech.

The winds with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kisst.

I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk and I saw the last light supine and tranquil upon tideflats like pieces of broken mirror, then beyond them lights began in the pale clear air, trembling a little like butterflies hovering a long way off.

The noonday quiet holds the hill.

The day was made for laziness, and lying on one's back in green places, and staring at the sky till its brightness forced one to shut one's eyes and go to sleep.

We went down into the silent garden. Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves.

The light died in the low clouds. Falling snow drank in the dusk. Shrouded in silence, the branches wrapped me in their peace. When the boundaries were erased, once again the wonder: that *I* exist.

I caught a pebble in the moonlight.

Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself on a breeze over the dunes, a life in which you stop and watch how a red-tailed hawk circles over a pond and a stand of pines. Get a life in which you pay attention to the baby as she scowls with concentration when she tried to pick up a Cheerio with her thumb and first finger.

She liked the life she had. She loved habits. She craved a day with nothing in it, a long, quiet stretch of hours in the studio.

The trees bathed their great heads in the waves of the morning, while their roots were planted deep in gloom; save where on the borders of the sunshine broke against their stems, or swept in long streams through their avenues, washing with brighter hue all the leaves over which it flowed; revealing the rich brown of the dacayed leaves and fallen pine-cones, and the delicate greens of the long grasses and tiny forests of moss that covered the channel over which it passed in the motionless rivers of light.