And what a congress of stinks!- Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks, Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.
Theodore RoethkeRead
Art is our defense against hysteria and death.
Interpretation
Art serves as a means to cope with deep emotional struggles and the inevitability of death.
In this quote, Theodore Roethke suggests that art plays a crucial role in helping humanity to confront and make sense of the chaos and emotional turmoil in life. By engaging with art, individuals can find a form of solace and expression that counters feelings of hysteria and the existential dread associated with mortality.
In practice
In a discussion about the role of creativity in mental health, this quote can highlight the importance of art.
And what a congress of stinks!- Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks, Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.
My Papa's Waltz: The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.
The indignity of it!-_x000D_ _x000D_ With everything blooming above me,_x000D_ _x000D_ Lilies, pale-pink cyclamen, roses,_x000D_ _x000D_ Whole fields lovely and inviolate,-_x000D_ _x000D_ Me down in the fetor of weeds,_x000D_ _x000D_ Crawling on all fours,_x000D_ _x000D_ Alive, in a slippery grave.
By daily dying, I have come to be.
The stones were sharp, The wind came at my back; Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat.
The self says, I am; The heart says, I am less; The spirit says, you are Nothing.
The advice I like to give young artists, or really anybody whoβll listen to me, is not to wait around for inspiration. Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work.
We talk so abstractly about poetry because all of us are usually bad poets.
One reason to write a poem is to flush from the deep thickets of the self some thought, feeling, comprehension, question, music, you didn't know was in you, or in the world.
I have a sweet tooth for song and music. This is my Polish sin.
What music is better able to do than language is to represent the complexity of human emotional states.
Try to distill the character of your subject. Understand how he moves, thinks, acts. It's difficult to put into words. Consider each drawing as a problem that did not exist before, and then try to solve that problem to the best of your ability. That i what caricature is all about
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