175 Quotes by Marianne Moore

The hands are the heart’s messengers.

Hate-hardened heart, O heart of iron, iron is iron till it is rust. There never was a war that was not inward;.

It is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander through his regions of enchantment without having a critic, forever, like the old man of the sea, upon his back.

Psychology which explains everything explains nothing, and we are still in doubt.