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Even if you are not ready for day it cannot always be night.

Gwendolyn Brooks

I like the concentration, the crush; I like working with language, as others like working with clay, or notes.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Focus Language Myself Note Work
I felt that I had to write. Even if I had never been published, I knew that I would go on writing, enjoying it and experiencing the challenge.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Challenge Enjoyment Experience Feeling Publish Writing
Writing is a delicious agony.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Delicious One Liner Pain Poet Writing
Exhaust the little moment soon it dies.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Death Moments Time
People are so in need, in need of help. People want so much that they do not know.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Help Knowledge Need People
Very early in life I became fascinated with the wonders language can achieve. And I began playing with words.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Achievement Beginning Early Fascinate Language Life Play Wonder Word
Art hurts. Art urges voyages – and it is easier to stay at home.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Art Easy Home Hurt Stay
I think there are things for all of us to do as long as we’re here and we’re healthy.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Health Myself Thinking
Books are meat and medicine and flame and flight and flower steel, stitch, cloud and clout, and drumbeats on the air.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Air Book Flame Flower Medicine
The forties and fifties were years of high poet-incense; the language-flowers were thickly sweet. Those flowers whined and begged white folks to pick them, to find them lovable. Then the ’60s: Independent fire!
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Fire Flower Independent Language Poet Sweet
There are no magics or elves or timely godmothers to guide us. We are lost, must wizard a track through our own screaming weed.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Guide Lost Magic Scream Time
When I start writing a poem, I don’t think about models or about what anybody else in the world has done.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Poem Start Thinking World Writing
Life for my child is simple, and is good.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Children Goodness Life Simplicity
With melted opals for my milk, Pearl-leaf for my cracker.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Milk Myself
I tell poets that when a line just floats into your head, don’t pay attention ’cause it probably has floated into somebody else’s head.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Attention Float Head Poet Yourself
As you get older, you find that often the wheat, disentangling itself from the chaff, comes out to meet you.
GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Food Growth Old Yourself

Even if you are not ready for day it cannot always be night.

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Even if you are not ready for day it cannot always be night.

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Popular Authors

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