20 Quotes by Lisel Mueller

. . .because we had survivedsisters and brothers, daughters and sons,we discovered bones that rosefrom the dark earth and sangas white birds in the treesBecause the story of our lifebecomes our lifeBecause each of us tells the same storybut tells it differentlyand none of us tells it the same way twice . . (from, Why We Tell Stories)

How I would paint happinessSomething hidden, a windfall, A meteor shower. No-A flowering tree releasing all its blossoms at once,and the one standing beneath itunexpectedly robed in bloom…

HeartlandNow that we’ve given our hearts awayWith the bric-a-brac, we want them back.Now we look for them secondhand, Someone else’s, in the old songs, The slowly unfolding novelsWe never had time for. Hearts That taught themselves to fly;…overstuffed hearts, still leakingDowny secrets like feathers.We want someone to say, ‘I give you my heart’, meaning,‘Summer and winter’, meaning‘All my time in the this world’…

at home the bookshelves connected heaven and earth.

Now in the thriving season of lovewhen the bud relents into flower,your love turned absence has turned once more,and if my comforts fall soft as rainon her flutters, it is becauselove grows by what it remembers of love

My husband says spring will be early.He says this every year,And every year I disagree.He needs me, the dark side of the planetary equation.Together we make the equinox.

O brave new world, that hath such people in itSoon you will be like her, Prospero’s daughter, Finding the door that leads you out of yourself,Out of the rare, enameled ark of your mind,Where you live with the gracious and light-footed creaturesThat thrive in the glaze of your art and freedom.

Memory and poetry go together, absolutely. It is a matter of preserving and of remembering things.

Well, language seems to be something that obsesses me. I'm always writing about it.