Phrase by 'Donald Hall'
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On September twentieth every year, I got to choose my menu - meatloaf, corn niblets, and rice were followed by candles on chocolate cake with vanilla icing and a scoop of Brock-Hall ice cream.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetSeptember , Ice Cream , Cake , Chocolate
In anything you write - in a short story, a poem - there has to be a counter-motion; it can't go all in one direction.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetYou , Short , Story , Direction
I expect my immortality will last about six seconds after my funeral.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetWill , Expect , Last , Immortality
As I look at the barn in my ninth decade, I see the no-smoking sign, rusted and tilting on the unpainted gray clapboard. My grandfather, born in 1875, milked his cattle there a century ago.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetLook , See , Grandfather , Born
We approached Athens from the north in early twilight, climbing a hill. When we reached its peak, we were dazzled to look down and see the Acropolis struck by one beam of the setting sun, as if posing for a picture.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetLook , Picture , Sun , Hill
My problem isn't death but old age. I fret about my lack of balance, my buckling knee, my difficulty standing up and sitting down.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetAge , Down , Old Age , Death
However alert we are, antiquity remains an unknown, unanticipated galaxy.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetGalaxy , Unknown , However , Alert
Friends die, friends become demented, friends quarrel, friends drift with old age into silence.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetFriends , Age , Old Age , Silence
Obviously, death is ahead of me. I don't look forward to dying one little bit. But, you know, I simply don't worry about it because it's going to happen to me as it does to anybody.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetYou , Me , Look , Death
I've always felt that poetry was particularly erotic, more than prose was... I say that you read poems not with your eyes and not with your ears, but with your mouth. You taste it.
Author: Donald Hall - American PoetYou , Poetry , Eyes , Mouth
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