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.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the interconnectedness of life, emphasizing the persistence of nature even in decay.
In this quote, Theodore Roethke paints a vivid picture of decay and life coexisting, highlighting the rich, almost pungent, nature of existence. The imagery of various organic materials and the affirmation that 'nothing would give up life' invites the reader to appreciate the cycles of life and death, and how even in decay, there is vitality. This complex relationship between the refuse of life and the ongoing breath of nature suggests that all forms of life are intertwined, and that even the most seemingly lifeless elements contribute to the continuous breath of existence.
In practice
This quote could be featured in a nature documentary discussing the cycles of life and decomposition.
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.
Art is our defense against hysteria and death.
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.
Let us not envy some men their accumulated riches; their burden would be too heavy for us; we could not sacrifice, as they do, health, quiet, honor and conscience, to obtain them: It is to pay so dear from them that the bargain is a loss.
For years I wondered why dreams are so often dull when related, and this morning I find the answer, which is very simple - like most answers, you have always known it: No context ... like a stuffed animal set on the floor of a bank.
An economic system which can only expand or expire must be false to all that is human.
I think perhaps the most important problem is that we are trying to understand the fundamental workings of the universe via a language devised for telling one another when the best fruit is.
He that buildeth his nest upon a Divine promise shall find it abide and remain until he shall fly away to the land where promises are lost in fulfillments.
If purpose, then, is inherent in art, so is it in Nature also. The best illustration is the case of a man being his own physician, for Nature is like that - agent and patient at once.
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