30 Elizabeth Bishop Quotes to Dive into Her Beautiful Poems

You are you and you will be you forever.

Love is the child. She was left stuttering elocution as the poor burning ship sank.

The wide trail I’m leaving glows now that it’s getting dark. I leave behind me a beautiful opalescent ribbon: this I know.

If they say you don’t have any sense, don’t mind them; it won’t make much difference.

The armored cars of dreams, invented to let us do so many one dangerous thing.

In your black hair, shooting stars shine, aloof. Where will they go so soon, resolute?

The art of losing is not difficult to master.

The mapped waters are calmer than the land, and lend it its wavy shape.

The iceberg attracts us more than the ship, even ending the trip.

You shouldn’t get too involved with people who can’t understand you.

Alone on the tracks I went, heart pounding in my chest. The space between the sleepers was excessive, or too narrow.

Topography is unbiased; north and west are equal.

Hoping to live days of greater happiness, I forgot that days of less happiness are passing.

Along the gray beaches, does the earth pull the sea up and lift it up?

Is it right to be watching strangers in a play in this strange of theaters?

Oh, shall we dream our dreams and have them too?

I saw it again and again, the same sea, the same, slightly, rocking indifferently over the rocks.

But he sleeps on top of his mast with his eyes tightly closed.

Democracy in the contemporary world requires, among other things, an educated and informed person.

The sea of ​​sequins below wants me to fall. It’s hard as diamonds; wants to destroy us all.

Being a poet is one of the most unhealthy jobs – no regular hours, so many temptations!

Anyone who sees it even changes the sidewalk. They are afraid of anger.

The dreams were the worst. Of course I dreamed of food and love, but they were more pleasant than otherwise.

Think about the long drive home. Should we have stayed home and thought here? Where should we be today?

I was made at right angles to the world and I see it that way. I can only see it like this.

And do we have room for another doubled-down sunset, still warm?

I knew that nothing strange had ever happened, that nothing strange could ever happen.

All the disorderly activity continues, horrible but joyful.

Icebergs are up to the soul (both made of less visible elements) to see themselves: fleshy, fair, upright, indivisible.

Insomnia. Maybe she sleeps during the day.