127 Quotes by Gwendolyn Brooks

To say yes is to dieA lot or a little. The dead wear capably their wryEnameled emblems. They smell.But that and that they do not altogether yell is all that we know well.It is brave to be involved,To be not fearful to be unresolved.Her new wish was to smileWhen answers took no airships, walked a while.

Book PowerBooks feed and cure and chortle and collide.In all this willful worldof thud and thump and thunderman’s relevance to bookscontinues to declare.Books are meat and medicineand flame and flight and flower,steel, stitch, and cloud and clout,and drumbeats in the air.

Not that anybody is saying that these people have no trouble.Merely that it is trouble with a gold-flecked beautiful banner.Nobody is saying that these people do not ultimately cease to be. AndSometimes their passings are even more painful than ours.It is just that so often they live till their hair is white.They make excellent corpses, among the expensive flowers. . . .

But dandelions were what she chiefly saw. Yellow jewels for everyday studding the patched green dress of her back yard. She liked their demure prettiness second to their everydayness; for in that latter quality she thought she saw a picture of herself, and it was comforting to find that what was common could also be a flower.

What, what am I to do with all of this life?

Very early in life I became fascinated with the wonders language can achieve. And I began playing with words.

When you love a man, he becomes more than a body. His physical limbs expand, and his outline recedes, vanishes. He is rich and sweet and right. He is part of the world, the atmosphere, the blue sky and the blue water.

Art hurts. Art urges voyages - and it is easier to stay at home.

When you use the term minority or minorities in reference to people, you're telling them that they're less than somebody else.