sonnet Quotes

Then, were not summer's distillation leftA liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,Nor it nor no remembrance what it was.But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

- William Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Sonnets

For all that beauty that doth cover theeIs but the seemly raiment of my heart,Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me.How can I then be elder than thou art?

- William Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Sonnets

I am, and that is all I know at times,My being shaped by forces known and not.But whereas words are made to bend to rhymes,My feet are bound to steps that I have wrought.I feel myself expanding into thisBeautiful niche I could not see beforeBut I always sensed-and now I cannot missMyself: I am unlimited and moreIs opening to me, the more I open To this sweet fear, like falling from a cloud,My heart's inertia clear and calm, unspokenBut heard. It says to me: "You are allowed."And I am free at last to feel this wayTo take this step: to wonder, love and stray.

- David Griswold, Farmer's Market Sonnets: Autumn 2012

Then the conceit of this inconstant staySets you rich in youth before my sight,Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay,To change your day of youth to sullied night;And all in war with Time for love of you,As he takes from you I engraft you new.

- William Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Sonnets

Then of thy beauty do I question make,That thou among the wastes of time must go,Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,And die as fast as they see others grow.

- William Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Sonnets

Love is not love which alters when it alterations finds. Sonnet 116

- William Shakespeare, The Sonnets and A Lover's Complaint

Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love.

- Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning: Plus Sonnets from the Porte-Cochere by S. H. Bass

But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,And, constant stars, in them I read such art,As truth and beauty shall together thriveIf from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;Or else of thee I prognosticate,Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

- William Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Sonnets

To give yourself away keep yourself still,And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill.

- William Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Sonnets

In your language you have a form of poetry called a sonnet...It is a very strict form of poetry, is it not?...There are fourteen lines, I believe, all in iambic pentameter. That's a very strict rhythm or meter, yes?...And each line has to end with a rigid rhyme pattern. And if the poet does not do it exactly this way, it is not a sonnet, is it?''No.''But within this strict form the poet has complete freedom to say whatever he wants, doesn't he?''Yes." Calvin nodded again.'So,' said Mrs. Whatsit.'So what?''Oh, do not be stupid, boy!' Mrs. Whatsit scolded. 'You know perfectly well what I am driving at!''You mean you're comparing our lives to a sonnet? A strict form, but with freedom within it?''Yes,' Mrs. Whatsit said. "You're given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself.

- Madeleine L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time

You focus on telling stories,
we do everything else.