Apples Poetry Quotes & Sayings

If I am horror writer, I should listen to metal???
- Why not to dubstep??? Or Deathstep??? — Deyth Banger

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. — John Keats

Naturally the question suggests itself, Why did these people want the river now when nobody had wanted it in the five preceding generations? Apparently it was because at this late day they thought they had discovered a way to make it useful; for it had come to be believed that the Mississippi emptied into the Gulf of California, and therefore afforded a short cut from Canada to China. Previously the supposition had been that it emptied into the Atlantic, or Sea of Virginia. — Mark Twain

Shall I compare thee to a barrel of apples?
Though art more hairy, but sweeter inside.
Rough winds couldn't keep me from taking you to chapel,
Where finally a horse could take a bride ... — Cynthia Hand

Can I hug you?"
"Do you want to?"said Bod.
"Yes."
"Well then."He thought for a moment."I don't mind if you do."
"My hands won't go through you or anything?You're really there?"
"You won't go through me,"he told her,and she threw her arms around him and squeezed him so tightly he could hardly breathe. — Neil Gaiman

I trained in Toronto with a private acting teacher, who was wonderful, for years growing up. — Megan Park

I doubt I'll ever do another book collaboration; I've been spoiled. Roger and I both happened to move to New Mexico at about the same time, when we each had a family of young kids to raise. Socializing seemed to lead naturally to working together. — Fred Saberhagen

To point at the moon a finger is needed, but woe to those who take the finger for the moon ... — D.T. Suzuki

Despite its veneer of impartial scholarship, Butz's book is replete with the same expressions of traditional anti-Semitism, philo-Germanism and conspiracy theory as the Holocaust denial pamphlets printed by the most scurrilous neo-Nazi groups.

-- Denying the Holocaust: The Growing Assault on Truth and Memory, page 126 — Deborah E. Lipstadt

Wawashkesh
these apples are
for you,
red on the white
snow,
their cider tang
will find you
in the gray woods.
There is a story
how a snake
offered an apple,
so sweet, so cold,
those bite was
sorrow.

--excerpt from Eric Gadzinski's poem "Wawashkeshgiwis" from The Way North — Ron Riekki

I'll read a book every now and then, but unlike most of my friends I don't always have one on the go. — Jonathan Pryce

My mother was the best and most beautiful woman who ever lived. She was clean, and good, and always helped "the poor and needy who cluster round your door," like it says in the poetry piece, and there never could have been a reason why God would want a woman to suffer herself, when she went flying on horseback even dark nights through rain or snow, to doctor other people's pain, and when she gave away things like she did - why, I've seen her take a big piece of meat from the barrel, and a sack of meal, and heaps of apples and potatoes to carry to Mandy Thomas - when she gave away food by the wagonload at a time, God couldn't have wanted her to be hungry, and yet she was that very minute almost crying for food; — Gene Stratton-Porter

The Sleeping

I have imagined all this:
In 1940 my parents were in love
And living in the loft on West 10th
Above Mark Rothko who painted cabbage roses
On their bedroom walls the night they got married.

I can guess why he did it.
My mother's hair was the color of yellow apples
And she wore a velvet hat with her pajamas.

I was not born yet. I was remote as starlight.
It is hard for me to imagine that
My parents made love in a roomful of roses
And I wasn't there.

But now I am. My mother is blushing.
This is the wonderful thing about art.
It can bring back the dead. It can wake the sleeping
As it might have late that night
When my father and mother made love above Rothko
Who lay in the dark thinking Roses, Roses, Roses. — Lynn Emanuel

After all, the universe required ten billion years of evolution before life was even possible; the evolution of the stars and the evolving of new chemical elements in the nuclear furnaces of the stars were indispensable prerequisites for the generation of life. — John Polkinghorne

Apples of Hesperides

Glinting golden through the trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Through the moon-pierced warp of night
Shoot pale shafts of yellow light,
Swaying to the kissing breeze
Swings the treasure, golden-gleaming,
Apples of Hesperides!.

Far and lofty yet they glimmer,
Apples of Hesperides!
Blinded by their radiant shimmer,
Pushing forward just for these;
Dew-besprinkled, bramble-marred,
Poor duped mortal, travel-scarred,
Always thinking soon to seize
And possess the golden-glistening
Apples of Hesperides!.

Orbed, and glittering, and pendent,
Apples of Hesperides!
Not one missing, still transcendent,
Clustering like a swarm of bees.
Yielding to no man's desire,
Glowing with a saffron fire,
Splendid, unassailed, the golden
Apples of Hesperides! — Amy Lowell

Hear the
truth from whomever says it — Maimonides