Quotes About Poet

Part of the glamour of being a poet was always this long reach into the future. You knew you were managing time.

The true poet is all the time a visionary and whether with friends or not, as much alone as a man on his death bed.

The here, the now and the individual have always been the special concern of the saint, the artist, the poet and -- from time immemorial--the woman.

If you ask a twenty-one-year-old poet whose poetry he likes, he might say, unblushing, Nobody's, In his youth, he has not yet understood that poets like poetry, and novelists like novels; he himself likes only the role, the thought of himself in a hat.

The great Irish poet Seamus Heaney wrote that once in a lifetime hope and history can rhyme. Evolution is what happens when history and change are in rhyme.

I'm a poet who can whine in meter

If a poet falls in a forest, and there's nobody there to hear him, does he make a metaphor or simile?

But I'm a woman, and as the great poet so cleverly wrote, hell hath no fury as a woman scorned. Consider me your personal hell.

As a poet Maria Terrone lives, like the rest of us, in a world of questions marks-but what shines through them is the fierce light of the life force itself

It gives a man character as a poet to have a daily contact with a job. I doubt whether I've lost a thing by leading an exceedingly regular and disciplined life.

The poet and the politician have this in common: their greatness depends on the courage with which they face the challenges of life.

paint in blue and black...sometimes gray - the colors of night - occasionally I surprise you with a mustard yellow, but then, I am a poet ...

you called me poet-priest - I am. ...devoted to my art, faithful to you...or, is the other way around?...

what else would a poet priest do on an endless night, but write of love?...

A Poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence; because he has no Identity—he is continually infor[ming]—and filling some other Body.

With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.

You know I used to be the back porch poet with my book of lines, always hoping knowing all the time, I'm probably never gonna find the perfect rhyme. . .For heavier things

Elizabeth Barrett Barrett, still better known to the world as Elizabeth Barrett Browning, was born on March 6, 1806, the eldest child of Edward and Mary Moulton Barrett

Nor mourn, O living One, because her part in life was mourning: Would she have lost the poet's fire for the anguish of the burning? The minstrel harp, for the strained string? tripod for the afflated Woe, or the vision, for those tears in which it shone dilated?

Well, then, I am getting deeper and deeper into correspondence with Robert Browning, poet and mystic, and we are growing to be the truest of friends.

Wordsworth is a philosophical and Christian poet, with depths in his soul to which poor Byron could never reach.

Like the minor poet who knows the meanness of his gift, I am doomed to a lifetime of frustration: to be able to comprehend beauty, but not create it.

Is this the side thou'rt choosing, then, sweet poet? After all the kindness of the Fae to thee?" "Kindness?" Kit snorted, not caring that Baines could see this lips. "Is that what thou callest it, my Queen?

The poet stripped off his gloves with an elegantly negligent gesture and smiled up at the Queens. Will wondered if anyone else could see what Kit's smile cost.