Edgar Lee Masters Quotes (197 Quotes)

Their silence shall be interpreted
As we approach them.

There is the silence of Lincoln,
Thinking of the poverty of his youth.

But through a long sickness
Coughing myself to death
I read the Upanishads and the poetry of Jesus.

Immortality is not a gift, Immortality is an achievement; And only those who strive mightily Shall possess it.

It may serve a turn in your life.

The dust's for crawling, heaven's for flying --
Wherefore, O soul, whose wings are grown,
Soar upward to the sun!

Break them and dispel the witchcraft
Of thinking your tub is life!

And no mother would let her baby suck
Diseased milk from her breast.

The which rebounded to my good fortune.

Pure or fool, for it makes no matter,
It's blood that calls to our blood.

Then I went to town and had James Garber,
Who wrote beautifully, write him a letter.

Horses and men are just alike.

Yet I lie here
Soothed by a secret none but Mary knows:
There is a garden of acacia,
Catalpa trees, and arbors sweet with vines --
There on that afternoon in June
By Mary's side --
Kissing her with my soul upon my lips
It suddenly took flight.

I had fiddled all day at the county fair.

Then Christ came to me and said,
"Go into the church and stand before the congregation
And confess your sin.

Have you read 'Tears, Idle Tears'?

But if he could describe it all
He would be an artist.

They set the lips, and sagged the cheeks,
And drooped the eyes with sorrow.

But oh, dear God, my soul trembled -- scarcely able
To hold to the railing of the new life
When I saw Em Stanton behind the oak tree
At the grave,
Hiding herself, and her grief!

That's why I made the Elixir of Youth,
Which landed me in the jail at Peoria
Branded a swindler and a crook
By the upright Federal Judge!

Why are you running so fast hither and thither
Chasing midges or butterflies?

Passer-by,
To love is to find your own soul
Through the soul of the beloved one.

But here is a joke of cosmic size:
The urge of nature that made a man
Evolve from his brain a spiritual life --
Oh miracle of the world!

I, the teacher, the old maid, the virgin heart,
Who made them all my children.

Beware of the man who rises to power from one suspender.

There is the silence of those who have failed;
And the vast silence that covers
Broken nations and vanquished leaders.

If we who are in life cannot speak
Of profound experiences,
Why do you marvel that the dead
Do not tell you of death?

Go to the good heart that is my husband,
Who broods upon what he calls our guilty love: --
Tell him that my love for you, no less than my love for him,
Wrought out my destiny -- that through the flesh
I won spirit, and through spirit, peace.

Their spirits beat upon mine
Like the wings of a thousand butterflies.

What will you do when you come to die,
If all your life long you have rejected Jesus,
And know as you lie there, He is not your friend?

Then how the picture began to clear
Till the face came forth like life?

Dust of my dust,
And dust with my dust,
O, child who died as you entered the world,
Dead with my death!

And then when I found what you were:
That your soul was small
And your words were false
As your blue-white porcelain teeth,
And your cuffs of celluloid,
I hated the love I had for you,
I hated myself, I hated you
For my wasted soul, and wasted youth.

In the strife of Freedom slain!

Maurice, weep not, I am not here under this pine tree.

And I meant to kill him on sight.

This is Darrow,
Inadequately scrawled, with his young, old heart,
And his drawl, and his infinite paradox
And his sadness, and kindness,
And his artist sense that drives him to shape his life
To something harmonious, even against the schemes of God.

But why will you never see that love of women,
And even love of wine,
Are the stimulants by which the soul, hungering for divinity,
Reaches the ecstatic vision
And sees the celestial outposts?

Be brave, all souls who have such visions!

And you weave high-hearted, singing, singing,
You guard the threads of love and friendship
For noble figures in gold and purple.

Passer-by, sin beyond any sin
Is the sin of blindness of souls to other souls.

And gates ajar -- yes, so they were;
You left them open and stray goats entered your garden.

If a man could bite the giant hand
That catchs and destroys him,
As I was bitten by a rat
While demonstrating my patent trap,
In my hardware store that day.

I never saw any difference
Between playing cards for money
And selling real estate,
Practicing law, banking, or anything else.

They come in solitude, or perhaps
You sit with your friend, and all at once
A silence falls on speech, and his eyes
Without a flicker glow at you: --
You two have seen the secret together,
He sees it in you, and you in him.

Well, Emily Sparks, your prayers were not wasted,
Your love was not all in vain.

It was all over with me, anyway,
When I ran the needle in my hand
While washing the baby's things,
And died from lock-jaw, an ironical death.

You may think, passer-by, that Fate
Is a pit-fall outside of yourself,
Around which you may walk by the use of foresight
And wisdom.

He vexed my life till I went back home
And lived like an old maid till I died,
Keeping house for father.

Then John Slack, the rich druggist, wooed me,
Luring me with the promise of leisure for my novel,
And I married him, giving birth to eight children,
And had no time to write.