nor till the poets among us can be "literalists of the imagination"Mabove insolence and triviality and can present
for inspection, "imaginary gardens with real toads in them," shall we have
it.

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. "Poetry," Selected Poems (1935).)

Of the crow-blue mussel shells, one keeps
adjusting the ash heaps;
opening and shutting itself like

an
injured fan.

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. The Fish (l. 3-7). . . The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore. (1981) Penguin Books.)

What is our innocence,
what is our guilt? All are
naked, none is safe.

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. What Are Years? (L. 1-3). . . The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore. (1981) Penguin Books.)

What is there

like fortitude! What sap
went through that little thread
to make the cherry red!

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. Nevertheless (l. 30-33). . . The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore. (1981) Penguin Books.)

tell my why the fen
appears impassable,

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. I May, I Might, I Must (l. 1-2). . . The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore. (1981) Penguin Books.)

A writer is unfair to himself when he is unable to be hard on himself.

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. Interview in Writers at Work, Second Series, ed. George Plimpton (1963).)

Durer would have seen a reason for living
in a town like this, with eight stranded whales
to look at;

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. The Steeple-Jack (l. 1-3). . . The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore. (1981) Penguin Books.)

At all events there is in Brooklyn
something that makes me feel at home.

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. A Carriage from Sweden (l. 4-5). . . The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore. (1981) Penguin Books.)

He's not out
seeing a sight but the rock
crystal thing to see?the startling El Greco
brimming with inner light?that
covets nothing that it has let go. This then you may know
as the hero.

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. The Hero (l. 49-54). . . The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore. (1981) Penguin Books.)

War is pillage versus resistance and if illusions of magnitude could be transmuted into ideals of magnanimity, peace might be realized.

(Marianne Moore (1887-1972), U.S. poet. repr. In Complete Prose (1987). "Comment," no. 86, Dial (New York, April 1929).)