Henri Cole Quotes & Sayings

Words and phrases grew only slowly — Henri Cole

Introducing the idea of beauty as a salve and of aesthetics making something difficult accessible. — Henri Cole

Even the songbirds have levels of mercury in their blood and feathers. — Henri Cole

Proximity to this death makes me nostalgic for the French language. — Henri Cole

unselfing themselves — Henri Cole

Milk, blood, tears, urine, semen. — Henri Cole

There was rain on steroids. — Henri Cole

Tenderness was not yet dust. — Henri Cole

the art of life, mostly, the art of avoiding pain — Henri Cole

I'm standing in the lake, forming a whirlpool with my arms, letting the force of atonement pull me into its center until I cannot any longer hang onto my observations or any sense of myself, like dust and hydrogen clouds getting all excited white creating new stars to light the backyard. How poignantly emptiness cries out to be filled. — Henri Cole

the wrinkled sleeve of the head — Henri Cole

Like something abstract deep within us- — Henri Cole

You see, my mind takes me far,
but my heart dreams of return. — Henri Cole

Was I happier there in my loneliness — Henri Cole

My soft voice and demeanor were useless. In a pint jar, I carried a cremated friend, like flesh scraped from a cistern. — Henri Cole

Releasing big sparks of rain that seem almost to bruise me — Henri Cole

In truth, I'm still slightly embarrassed to say, I am a poet. I'd rather say, I make poems. — Henri Cole

Why was the salt of wisdom no good to him? — Henri Cole

Her eyes are salt-choked. — Henri Cole

As language is sometimes audible before senses arrives. — Henri Cole

Mars red gladiolus — Henri Cole

sleep-stiffened bones — Henri Cole

Over the past 30 years, hand grenades, tanks, fighter jets, missiles, helicopters and assault rifles have replaced traditional floral patterns in rug making and other textiles. Depicting these realities of war has helped the Afghan people to survive during times of conflict. — Henri Cole

I intended to make a poem about the superiority of language over brute force — Henri Cole

I feel like a jug in which wine is poured until it overflows. — Henri Cole

How can I defend myself against what I want? — Henri Cole

There's no animal that sleep-deprives itself like the human. — Henri Cole

spattering the walls with pulp and guano, like graffiti artists. — Henri Cole

The thick, caressable curls if his hair. — Henri Cole

A plague of snow, fluffy and dry before it hardens and grips the trees, the walls, and the cars parked haphazardly everywhere. When I walk to the little market a few blocks away, it feels like a test of endurance. — Henri Cole

You weren't born by yourself. — Henri Cole

We all came from our mothers' bellies. We all have hope in our veins. We don't want history to forget us, but the dead look after the afterwards. — Henri Cole

I'm sorry I cannot say I love you when you say
you love me. The words, like moist fingers,
appear before me full of promise but then run away
to a narrow black room that is always dark,
where they are silent, elegant, like antique gold,
devouring the thing I feel. I want the force
of attraction to crush the force of repulsion
and my inner and outer worlds to pierce
one another, like a horse whipped by a man.
I don't want words to sever me from reality.
I don't want to need them. I want nothing
to reveal feeling but feeling - as in freedom,
or the knowledge of peace in a realm beyond,
or the sound of water poured into a bowl. — Henri Cole