I was in juvenile detention center, and I was in Rikers Island. And there was an anthology written by the inmates called ‘The Pen,’ and I – you know, I had a crush on a girl, and she left me when I was incarcerated. And I found this poem in this anthology that talked about having your heart broken and being incarcerated.
I was dealing with craft, and that’s the surprising thing, the number of people who have literally broken down on our stage, because when you’re talking about the thing that is most important to someone, they’re liable to feel something strong.
Many well-meaning intelligent people have argued since the May 17, 1954, decision of the United States Supreme Court outlawing segregation in the public schools that communication between the races has broken down.
The men whose manhood you have broken will loathe you, and will always be brooding and scheming to strike a fresh blow.
It is any day better to stand erect with a broken and bandaged head then to crawl on one’s belly, in order to be able to save one’s head.
When you put a poem on a Kindle, the lines are broken in order to fit on the screen. And so instead of being the poet’s decision, it becomes the device’s decision.
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.
It’s quite fashionable to say that the educational system is broken. It’s not broken. It’s wonderfully constructed. It’s just that we don’t need it anymore.
I pray as follows: May justice reign, may the laws not be broken, may the wise men be poor, and the poor men rich, without sin.
The years like great black oxen tread the world, and God, the herdsman goads them on behind, and I am broken by their passing feet.