Quotes About Poet

Only the most acute and active animals are capable of boredom. - A theme for a great poet would be God's boredom on the seventh day of creation.

He was the most widely travelled poet of the Renaissance; a man who lost an eye in Morocco, who was exiled to the East for a sword fight, who was destitute in Goa and shipwrecked in the Mekong Delta – he swam ashore clutching his manuscript above his head while his Chinese lover drowned.

Yes, you can feel very alone as a poet and you sometimes think, is it worth it? Is it worth carrying on? But because there were other poets, you became part of a scene. Even though they were very different writers, it made it easier because you were together.

Just as the poet is a menace to conformity, he is also a constant threat to political dictators. He is always on the verge of blowing up the assembly line of political power.

He had even tried the violin a few years earlier. Anything to switch talents, but there was no escape. The compulsion was identical to that of any composer or poet for whom the meaning of his life was creation. One could only wonder what Picasso would have done to the world if he had been born a physicist. Terrifying thought . . .

I used to be a poet. My words were traded in marketplaces like pieces of gold. Merchants bought my verses for as much as they paid for saffron and Indian jade. Now I am old... drunk on wine and candle fumes. Alone in this barren room, I speak my psalms to the night air so as to entertain moths before they go off to die. I used to be a poet and my words were gold.

Apollinaire said a poet should be 'of his time.' I say objects of the Digital Age belong in newspapers, not literature. When I read a novel, I don't want credit cards; I want cash in ducats and gold doubloons.

I was figuring on dropping in on William Blake this afternoon

América Latina El poeta cara a cara con la luna fuma su margarita emocionante bebe su dosis de palabras ajenas vuela con sus pinceles de rocío rasca su violincito pederasta. Hasta que se destroza los hocicos en el áspero muro de un cuartel.

education snuffs the spirit right out of some people. She'll wind up being an artist or a poet or an actor or a sailor—something that would scare the life out of most folks

As she walked along she dramatized the night. There was about it a wild, lawless charm that appealed to a certain wild, lawless strain hidden deep in Emily's nature—the strain of the gypsy and the poet, the genius and the fool.

Ma un poeta può anche non badare a queste cose, che son di fatto. Un poeta può veder le stelle anche quando non si vedono, e viceversa poi non vedere tant'altre cose, che tutti gli altri vedono.

the clash between Austin Dickinson and his wife, who had been the poet's intimate and her keenest reader. Out of this clash a lasting feud developed, and it was the opponents in this feud, their allies and warring descendants, who devised the image of the poet as her fame grew and endured.

a feud over who was to own the poet: in the first instance, who was to have the right to publish her works; in the second, whose legend would imprint itself on the public mind.

Mabel Todd would take possession of Dickinson's papers and market them on her own terms, so that the strange nature of the poet became obscured.

see the poet through a family upheaval that was to determine her image

Once The Evergreens and then the Homestead opened their doors to Mabel Todd, emotions—a lethal mix of passion, jealousy and rage—erupted during the last years of the poet's life, perpetuated by descendants and the authorities they co-opted or persuaded.

The vulnerable image encouraged the pathos woven into her popularity. How the public loves wounded genius! How it loves her all the more if she be unmated, seething with love denied, an all-time poet unrecognised in her lifetime. But the Emily Dickinson who speaks through her letters makes no concession to helplessness.

The chief news is that I have grown a beard! Its colour is very much admired, and it is generally considered extremely effective, though some ill-bred persons have been observed to laugh. It is a red-brown of the most approved tint, and makes me look like a French decadent poet—or something equally distinguished.

People like me spend years learning the techniques of meditation. But you're a poet, and poets are born knowing the language of angels.

Plato spoke of the necessity for divine madness in the poet. It is a frightening thing to open oneself to this strange and dark side of the divine; it means letting go of our sane self-control, that control which gives us the illusion of safety. But safety is only an illusion, and letting it go is part of listening to the silence, and to the Spirit.

You are the poet, you walk inside my dreams...

Out of the red and silver and the long cry of alarm to the poet who survives in all human beings, as the child survives in him; to this poet she threw an unexpected ladder in the middle of the city and ordained, 'Climb!

Quiero ser un poeta fuerte, tan fuerte como Henry y John en su realismo. Quiero combatirlos, invadirlos y aniquilarlos.