John Ashbery Quotes

Some day I'll claim to you how all used up I am because of you but in the meantime the ride Continues. Everyone is along for the ride, It seems. Besides, what else is there?
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "Worsening Situation."
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The light that was shadowed then Was seen to be our lives, Everything about us that love might wish to examine, Then put away for a certain length of time, until The whole is to be reviewed, and we turned Toward each other, to each other.
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "As We Know."
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... like a Wave on a beach, that thinks it's had this Tremendous idea, coming to crash on the beach Like that, and it's true, it has, yet Others have gone before, and still others will Follow.
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "Litany."
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She liked the blue drapes. They made a star At the angle. A boy in leather moved in.
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "The Couple in the Next Room."
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And you teetered on the edge of this Calm street with its sidewalks, its traffic, As though they are coming to get you.
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "As We Know."
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Some certified nut Will try to tell you it's poetry, (It's extraordinary, it makes a great deal of sense) But watch out or he'll start with some New notion or other....
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "Litany."
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For the shoe pinches, even though it fits perfectly. Apples were made to be gathered, also the whole host of the world's ailments and troubles. There is no time like the present for giving in to this temptation. Tomorrow you'll weep what of it?
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "The Ecclesiast."
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the gap of today filling itself as emptiness is distributed in the idea of what time it is when that time is already past
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "As You Came from the Holy Land."
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For what Is remarkable about our chronic reverie (a watch That is always too slow or too fast) Is the lively sense of accomplishment that haloes it From afar.
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "Litany."
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Fine vapors escape from whatever is doing the living. The night is cold and delicate and full of angels Pounding down the living. The factories are all lit up, The chime goes unheard. We are together at last, though far apart.
John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. "The Ecclesiast."
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