Explore Quotes by R. S. Thomas

Poetry is that / which arrives at the intellect / by way of the heart.

The meaning is in the waiting.

I have seen the sun break through _x000D_to illuminate a small field _x000D_for a while, and gone my way _x000D_and forgotten it. But that was the pearl _x000D_of great price, the one field that had _x000D_treasure in it. I realize now _x000D_that I must give all that I have _x000D_to possess it. Life is not hurrying_x000D_on to a receeding future, nor hankering after _x000D_an imagined past. It is the turning _x000D_aside like Moses to the miracle _x000D_of the lit bush, to a brightness _x000D_that seemed as transitory as your youth _x000D_once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

The silence holds with its gloved hand the wild hawk of the mind.

A recurring ideal, I find, is that of simplicity. At times there comes the desire to write with great precision and clarity, words so simple and moving that they bring tears to the eyes.

Man is a dream about a shadow. But when some splendour falls upon him from God, a glory comes to him and his life is sweet.

I'm obviously not orthodox, I don't know how many real poets have ever been orthodox.

Imaginative truth is the most immediate way of presenting ultimate reality to a human being... ultimate reality is what we call God.

Now the power of the imagination is a unifying power, hence the force of metaphor; and the poet is the supreme manipulator of metaphor... the world needs the unifying power of the imagination. The two things that give it best are poetry and religion.

You have to imagine_x000D_a waiting that is not impatient_x000D_because it is timeless.

The furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address. Even the clearest water, if deep enough can drown. Never think to surprise them. Your face approaching ever so friendly is the white flag they ignore. There is no truce with the furies. A mirror's temperature is always zero. It is ice in the veins. It's camera is an x-ray. It is a chalice held out to you in silent communion, where gaspingly you partake of a shifting identity never your own.