Quotes About Poet

God is the poet; men are but the actors. The great dramas of earth were written in heaven.

He led quite a great life, ... He was an Old Testament figure railing against the establishment - a Jewish guy from New York who became a Buddhist, a poet, a musician.

If you tell a novelist, 'Life's not like that', he has to do something about it. The poet simply replies, 'No, but I am.'

Beneath the stars the lake lay dark and sombre, but on its shores gleamed and glared in golden radiance the ivory city, beautiful as a poet's dream, silent as a city of the dead.

I was born with the devil in me. I could not help the fact that I was a murderer, no more than the poet can help the inspiration to sing. DR. H. H. HOLMES CONFESSION 1896

She was angry at Ezra Pound because he had sat down too quickly on a small, fragile and, doubtless, uncomfortable chair, that it is quite possible he had been given on purpose, and had either cracked or broken it. That he was a great poet and a gentle and generous man and could have accommodated himself in a normal-size chair was not considered.

He worried about everyone and in the time when I first knew him he was most worried about T. S. Eliot who, Ezra told me, had to work in a bank in London and so had insufficient time and bad hours to function as a poet.

clowns got up as poets arrogant bureaucrats pedantic criers you are the standard bearers carrying faded colors being a poet isnt a matter of pride it is only an error of nature a burden to be shouldered with fear

Those who say we should dismantle the role of Poet Laureate altogether, the trick they miss is that being called this thing, with the weight of tradition behind it, and with the association of the Royal family, does allow you to have conversations and to open doors, and wallets, for the good of poetry in a way that nothing else would allow.

Ha, ha. I, my dear Ciri, am a poet. Poets know everything about things like this. I'll tell you something else; poets know more about this sort of thing than the people involved do.

He really is a famous poet, Nenneke. Surely you're not going to claim you've never heard his ballads." "I've heard them." The priestess winced. "Yes, indeed. Well, I don't know much about it, but maybe the ability to jump from touching lyricism to obscenities so easily is a talent.

The elf nodded. From her saddlebow, she took a lute, a marvelous instrument of light, tastefully inlaid wood with a slender, engraved neck. Without a word, she handed the lute to Dandilion. The poet accepted the instrument and smiled. Also without a word, but his eyes said a great deal. "Farewell

You would do better not to attract attention, O poet. Your fiancee is here. There could be trouble.' 'Fiancee?' Dandilion blinked nervously. 'Which one do you mean? I have several.

Ha—just look!—even on the living bark of sacred Bleobheris, there just above the poet's head, there's a foul phrase carved out with a knife—and it's misspelled at that—by a stupid, illiterate vandal.

My wishes,' continued the poet, 'are as follows. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, die of apoplexy as soon as possible. Secondly, there's a count's daughter in Caelf called Virginia who refuses all advances. May she succumb to mine. Thirdly—' No

The eyes of a poet discover in each person a unique and irreplaceable humanity. While arrogant intellect seeks to control and manipulate the world, the poetic spirit bows with reverence before its mysteries.

I live in New York City, and one day many years ago I was with a poet, Gregory Corso, walking through Greenwich Village. He pointed to a doorway in an alley that he said led to a tunnel under Manhattan, a tunnel he'd use to run from the cops. I started learning about old Prohibition-era speakeasy tunnels under the city, for running whiskey.

I would enjoy having dinner with the poet/playwright Derek Walcott.

Technological prescience in science fiction usually requires an author with luck. Societal prescience requires a poet.

It's that wounded-poet crap, that soul-pain shit, that too-much-of-a-tortured-genius-to-wash bollocks. Brush your teeth, you little bastard. You're not fucking Byron.

Es esa mierda del poeta herido, del dolor del alma, las gilipolleces de soy un genio demasiado torturado como para poder lavarme. Lávate los dientes, cabrón. No eres el puto Byron

Yang bikin kelpek-klepek adalah lagak pujangga-teraniaya itu, omong kosong luka-batin, gaya genius-yang-tersiksa itu. …

Ariel Gordon is superbly, supremely, a poet of the body. She finds words for the physicality of the forest, of the garden, of pregnancy. Hump speaks the erotics of being alive and being in love with being alive.

Baudelaire was far more than a great poet. He established the keyboard of a sensibility that still lives within us, if we are not total brutes.