Leonard Cohen Quotes

GIFT

You tell me that silence
is nearer to peace than poems
but if for my gift
I brought you silence
(for I know silence)
you would say
This is not silence
this is another poem
and you would hand it back to me

This is it

I’m not coming after you

I’m going to lie down for half an hour

This is it

I’m not going down

On your memory

I’m not rubbing my face in it anymore

I’m going to yawn

I’m going to stretch

I’m going to put a knitting needle

Up my nose

And poke out my brain

I don’t want to love you

For the rest of my life

I want your skin

To fall off my skin

I want my clamp

To release your clamp

I don’t want to live

With this tongue hanging out

And another filthy song

In the place

Of my baseball bat

This is it

I’m going to sleep now darling

Don’t try to stop me

I’m going to sleep

I’ll have a smooth face

And I’m going to drool

I’ll be asleep

Whether you love me or not

This is it

The new world order

Of wrinkles and bad breath

It’s not going to be

Like it was before

Eating you

With my eyes closed

Hoping you won’t get up

And go away

It’s going to be something else

Something worse

Something sillier

Something like this

Only shorter

We are ugly but we have the music.

How Could I Have Doubted

I stopped looking for you
I stopped waiting for you
I stopped dying for you
and I started dying for myself
I aged rapidly
I became fat in the face
and soft in the gut
and I forgot that I’d ever loved you
I was old
I had no focus, no mission
I wandered around eating and buying
bigger and bigger clothes
and I forgot why I hated
every long moment that was mine to fill
Why did you come back to me tonight
I can’t even get off this chair
Tears run down my cheeks
I am in love again
I can live like this

It's coming through a hole in the air From those nights in Tiananmen Square It's coming from the feel That it ain't exactly real Or it's real, but it ain't exactly there From the war against disorder From the sirens night and day From the fires of the homeless From the ashes of the gay Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

I feel that, you know, the enormous luck I've had in being able to make a living, and to never have had to have written one word that I didn't want to write, to be able to have satisfied that dictum I set for myself, which was not to work for pay, but to be paid for my work — just to be able to satisfy those standards that I set for myself has been an enormous privilege.

I can't make the hills
The system is shot
I'm living on pills
For which I thank G-d
I followed the course
From chaos to art
Desire the horse
Depression the cart
I sailed like a swan
I sank like a rock
But time is long gone
Past my laughing stock
My page was too white
My ink was too thin
The day wouldn't write
What the night pencilled in
My animal howls
My angel's upset
But I'm not allowed
A trace of regret
For someone will use
What I couldn't be
My heart will be hers
Impersonally
She'll step on the path
She'll see what I mean
My will cut in half
And freedom between
For less than a second
Our lives will collide
The endless suspended
The door open wide
Then she will be born
To someone like you
What no one has done
She'll continue to do
I know she is coming
I know she will look
And that is the longing
And this is the book

What I loved in my old life — I haven’t forgotten — it lives in my spine.

If only my genitals didn't float
When I relaxed in the bath
And we both looked down and we both agreed
It's stupid to be a man

Here the destruction is subtle, and there the body is torn. Here the breaking is perceived, and there the dead unaware carry their putrid remains. All trade in filth, carry their filth one to another, all walk the streets as though the ground did not recoil, all stretch their necks to bite the air, as though the breath had not withdrawn. The seed bursts without a blessing, and the harvest is gathered as if it were food.

There is a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in.

I loved you when you opened like a lily to the heat; you see I’m just another snowman standing in the rain and sleet who loved you with his frozen love, his second hand physique, with all he is and all he was a thousand kisses deep.

To a Young Nun

This undemanding love
that our staggered births
have purchased for us — You in your generation,
I in mine.
I am not the one
you are looking for.
You are not the one
I've stopped looking for.
How sweetly time
disposes of us
as we go arm in arm
over the Bridge of Details:
Your turn to chop.
My turn to cook.
Your turn to die for love.
My turn to resurrect.

Here I stand, I'm your man.

I am running through a snowfall which is her thighs, he dramatized in purple. Her thighs are filling up the street. Wide as a snowfall, heavy as huge falling Zeppelins, her damp thighs are settling on the sharp roofs and wooden balconies. Weather-vanes press the shape of roosters and sail-boats into the skin. The faces of famous statues are preserved like intaglios....