Alden Nowlan > Quotes

“The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise.”
― Alden Nowlan

“Growing up is never straight forward.
There are moments when everything is fine, and other moments where you realize that
there are certain memories that you'll never get back, and certain people that are going to change, and the hardest part is knowing that
there's nothing you can do except watch them.”
― Alden Nowlan

“For those who belong nowhere, and for those who belong to one place too much to belong anywhere else.”
― Alden Nowlan

“December is thirteen months long, July's one afternoon.”
― Alden Nowlan, Alden Nowlan: Selected Poems

“‎The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect; he becomes an adolescent, the day he forgives them he becomes an adult”
― Alden Nowlan

“Broadcaster's Poem

I used to broadcast at night
alone in a radio station
but I was never good at it
partly because my voice wasn't right
but mostly because my peculiar
metaphysical stupidity
made it impossible
for me to keep believing
their was somebody listening
when it seemed I was talking
only to myself in a room no bigger
than an ordinary bathroom
I could believe it for a while
and then I'd get somewhat
the same feeling as when you
start to suspect you're the victim
of a practical joke
So one part of me
was afraid another part
might blurt out something
about myself so terrible
that even I had never until
that moment suspected it

This was like the fear
of bridges and other
high places: Will I take off my glasses
and throw them
into the water, although I'm
half blind without them?
Will I sneak up behind
myself and push?

Another thing:
As a reporter
I covered an accident in which a train
ran into a car, killing
three young men, one of whom
was beheaded. The bodies looked
boneless, as such bodies do
More like mounds of rags
and inside the wreckage
where nobody could get at it
the car radio
was still playing

I thought about places
the disc jockey's voice goes
and the things that happen there
and of how impossible it would be for him
to continue if he really knew.”
― Alden Nowlan

“The Masks Of Love

I come in from a walk
With you
And they ask me
If it is raining.

I didn’t notice
But I’ll have to give them
The right answer
Or they’ll think I’m crazy.”
― Alden Nowlan

“As long as you read this poem I will be writing it.”
― Alden Nowlan, Alden Nowlan: Selected Poems

“Five years married and he has never once wished he dared kill her.”
― Alden Nowlan, Alden Nowlan: Selected Poems

“Nobody believes anything that's put in a poem.”
― Alden Nowlan, Alden Nowlan: Selected Poems

“A Poem About Miracles

Why don't the records go blank
the instant the singer dies?
Oh, I know there are explanations,
but they don't convince me.
I'm still surprised
when I hear the dead singing.
As for orchestras,
I expect the instruments
to fall silent one by one
as the musicians succumb
to cancer and heart disease
so that toward the end
I turn on a disc
labelled Gotterdammerung
and all that comes out
is the sound of one sick old man
scraping a shaky bow
across an out-of-tune fiddle.”
― Alden Nowlan

“The Executioner

On the night of the execution
a man at the door
mistook me for the coroner.
“Press,” I said.

But he didn’t understand. He led me
into the wrong room
where the sheriff greeted me:
“You’re late, Padre.”

“You’re wrong,” I told him. “I’m Press.”
“Yes, of course, Reverend Press.”
We went down a stairway.

“Ah, Mr. Ellis,” said the Deputy.
“Press!” I shouted. But he shoved me
through a black curtain.
The lights were so bright
I couldn’t see the faces
of the men sitting
opposite. But, thank God, I thought
they can see me!

“Look!” I cried. “Look at my face!
Doesn’t anybody know me?”

Then a hood covered my head.
“Don’t make it harder for us,” the hangman whispered.”
― Alden Nowlan