Sonnets Quotes

“Sweetheart, darling, dearest, it was funny to think that these endearments, which used to sound exceedingly sentimental in movies and books, now held great importance, simple but true verbal affirmations of how they felt for each other. They were words only the heart could hear and understand, words that could impart entire pentameter sonnets in their few, short syllables.”
― E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly

“I am sonnets full of stardust within the meter of my skin.”
― Patricia Robin Woodruff

“In the case of Michel Angelo we have an artist who with brush and chisel portrayed literally thousands of human forms; but with this peculiarity, that while scores and scores of his male figures are obviously suffused and inspired by a romantic sentiment, there is hardly one of his female figures that is so,—the latter being mostly representative of woman in her part as mother, or sufferer, or prophetess or poetess, or in old age, or in any aspect of strength or tenderness, except that which associates itself especially with romantic love. Yet the cleanliness and dignity of Michel Angelo's male figures are incontestable, and bear striking witness to that nobility of the sentiment in him, which we have already seen illustrated in his sonnets.”
― Edward Carpenter, The Intermediate Sex: A Study Of Some Transitional Types Of Men And Women

“A sonnet might look dinky, but it was somehow big enough to accommodate love, war, death, and O.J. Simpson. You could fit the whole world in there if you shoved hard enough.”
― Anne Fadiman, Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader

“O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.”
― William Shakespeare, Sonnets

“Sonnet VIII

Je vis, je meurs : je me brûle et me noie,
J’ai chaud extrême en endurant froidure ;
La vie m’est et trop molle et trop dure,
J’ai grands ennuis entremêlés de joie.

Tout en un coup je ris et je larmoie,
Et en plaisir maint grief tourment j’endure,
Mon bien s’en va, et à jamais il dure,
Tout en un coup je sèche et je verdoie.

Ainsi Amour inconstamment me mène
Et, quand je pense avoir plus de douleur,
Sans y penser je me trouve hors de peine.

Puis, quand je crois ma joie être certaine,
Et être en haut de mon désiré heur,
Il me remet en mon premier malheur.”
― Louise Labé, Œuvres complètes: Sonnets, Elegies, Débat de folie et d'amour

“Were kisses all the joys in bed,/One woman would another wed.”
― William Shakespeare

“I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
As being past away.—Vain sympathies!
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;
The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish;—be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.”
― William Wordsworth

“Saturday Sonnet by Stewart Stafford

The Bard once wrote that love is blind,
Desire’s muslin cloth veils the eyes behind,
As a hog for truffles nosing in dirt,
The human sniffs out a way to flirt,
Flippant words become overture,
And a dungeon-dweller emerges pure,
Love’s great story blossoming anew,
Past indiscretions in a penitent’s pew,
Hearts as one, a confluence of minds,
Time to think of the tie that binds,
Sure of footing and glad of heart
Wheels turning on a bridal cart,
Handsome husband, pretty wife,
Set out together in this thing called life.

© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“N’attendons pas demain: Cueillons dès aujourd’hui les roses de la vie / Live, don’t wait until tomorrow to pick the roses of life”
― Pierre de Ronsard, Sonnets Pour Helene

“Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O! but with mine compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments
And sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robbed others’ beds’ revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov’st those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:
Root pity in thy heart, that, when it grows,
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
By self-example mayst thou be denied!”
― Shakespeare William, Shakespeare's Sonnets

“Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil,
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turned fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another’s hell:
Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.”
― Shakespeare William, Shakespeare's Sonnets

“A Christian's life

Just a moment passing the time as a world looks upon like footprints in the sand before the tide of time comes in washing clean the sand leaving only a memory of a life touched till eternity's kiss does come saying welcome home beloved, welcome home.”
― John M Sheehan

“So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love’s right,
And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,
O’ercharged with burthen of mine own love’s might”
― William Shakespeare, Sonnet 23

“if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it, for I love you so,
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O! if, I say, you look upon this verse,
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse;
But let your love even with my life decay;
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone.”
― William Shakespeare

“Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.”
― William Shakespeare

“بناء العقلية المتكاملة بين العلم والفن والرياضيات والهندسة والتكنولوجيا هو جل ما أسعى للوصول إليه…
لا يمكن للمرء أن يستمر بالابداع اذا أطال الوقوف أمام حرم واحد للجمال…”
― Mahdi Mansour

“والآن‎ في فصل الحنينِ
وحين يعرى حزن أيلول
‎ لأنسام الشتاءْ
‎ ينتابني وجعٌ وأسئلةٌ
لماذا الحزن مع عين السماءْ؟
‎ ولأيّ قلبٍ كلّما انهمرت سماءٌ
‎ فوق أرضٍ
‎أشتهي حبّاً مضى...
‎ وتفوحُ رائحةُ النساءْ…”
― Mahdi Mansour

“الساكنون بهذا القلب قد عرفوا
أن السعادة لا تعني سوى الأملِ…
كل البلاد سجونٌ غير آمنةٍ…
إلا متى وجه مَن في البال، يضحك لي!”
― Mahdi Mansour

“كالنظراتِ الحرةِ تبحرُ أشرعة الصيّادينْ
من غيرِ إشاراتٍ من غير قوانينْ!
فلماذا هذا البرّ طريقي الإلزاميّ إلى عينيكِ،
لماذا توقفني كفّاكِ، وشرطةُ أحلامكِ، والمستقبل والماضي،
ولماذا في سيري نحوكِ تقطعُ دربي مدنٌ من خلف البحرِ وعشّاقٌ من خلف العمرِ وأسرابُ مجانينْ
وأنا لا شمسَ لعمري غير الشَّعر الغجريّ المتموّج،
لا ليلَ سوى حضنكِ...
لا أرض سواك أعيش لها وبها، أزرع فيها أيامي...
صوتُك آلهة من موسيقى...
وشفاهكِ دِينْ…”
― Mahdi Mansour

“لا تحزني
معك البقايا من كتاباتي التي عبثت بها النيرانْ...
عيناكِ تحفظُ صورتي...
ما همَّ بعدُ إذا غدوتُ أنا دخانْ”
― Mahdi Mansour

“لك الحمد، لولا الجرح في سقف بيتنا-
لما دخلت ليلي سماءٌ وأنجمُ...
وبوركت، كم أعطيت حين حرمتني-
كفى أن لي ليلاً، وأني أحلمُ...”
― Mahdi Mansour

“Alas, have I not pain enough, my friend,
Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire
Than did on him who first stale down the fire,
While Love on me doth all his quiver spend,
But with your rhubarb words you must contend
To grieve me worse, in saying that Desire
Doth plunge my well-formed soul even in the mire
Of sinful thoughts, which do in ruin end?

If that be sin which doth the manners frame,
Well stayed with truth in word and faith of deed,
Ready of wit, and fearing naught but shame;
If that be sin which in fixed hearts doth breed
A loathing of all loose unchastity,
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.”
― Sir Philip Sydney, Sir Philip Sidney - and Stella: “Fool," said my muse to me. "Look in thy heart and write”

“Don't memorize, live my sonnets.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Humanitarian Dictator

“Sonnet 2000 (My Real Legacy)

My real legacy is not the books or the sonnets,
but the unbending humanitarians I've set on fire.
The literature is just a vessel for the spirit,
spirit of a world united, in reason and in care.

Ceaseless slurs are daily occurrence,
Mindless hate indeed plenty I face.
Yet I've kept all vengeance in check,
Never have I ever been lost in bitterness.

I am the line that I've drawn for myself,
Can't tell you how to behave, how not.
I stand steady as the human impossible,
Rest is up to you, what to take, what not.

I don't come from wealth, nor could I amass any,
I set out with zero dollars, and no publicity.
World integration is my life's first madness -
this madness I leave for you, now it's your duty.”
― Abhijit Naskar, When World Cries Blood: New Civil War Sonnets

“Sonnets to Write Before I Sleep
(The Sonnet)

When I finished my first 1000 sonnets,
I felt, now I shall take it slow.
But now at the finishing of second 1000,
I feel, I gotta write thousands more!

The first thousand took me four years,
the second thousand took me two years,
all without an ounce of industry support,
I am the sole maker of my literary empire.

Sonnets are my vessel of reason,
Sonnets are my bearer of justice.
Sonnets are my medium of divinity,
I'm my sonnets - antidote to malice.

Proof of poetry is in the spirit,
Proof of justice is among the just.
Worlds to unite before I sleep,
Proof of life is in standing guard.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Humanitarian Dictator

“Sonnets are my vessel of reason,
Sonnets are my bearer of justice.
Sonnets are my medium of divinity,
I'm my sonnets - antidote to malice.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Humanitarian Dictator

“When I finished my first 1000 sonnets,
I felt, now I shall take it slow.
But now at the finishing of second 1000,
I feel, I gotta write thousands more!

Sonnets are my vessel of reason,
Sonnets are my bearer of justice.
Sonnets are my medium of divinity,
I'm my sonnets - antidote to malice.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Humanitarian Dictator

“Sonnets to write before I sleep.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Humanitarian Dictator

“Sonnets to write before I sleep,
Sciences to humanize before I sleep.
Holiness to naturalize before I sleep,
Rights to initiate before I sleep.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Humanitarian Dictator