Quotes About Poet

The life of a poet lies not merely in the finite language-dance of expression but in the nearly infinite combinations of perception and memory combined with the sensitivity to what is perceived and remembered.

pain has been with him since birth - the universe's gift to a poet ...

The life of a poet lies not merely in the finite language-dance of expression but in the nearly infinite combinations of perception and memory combined with the sensitivity to what is perceived and remembered. My three local years on Heaven's Gate, almost fifteen hundred standard days, allowed me to see, to feel, to hear ? to remember, as if I literally had been born again. Little matter that I had been born again in hell.

I love being a poet. It's the goddamned words I can't stand.

To be a poet, I realized, a true poet, was to become the Avatar of humanity incarnate; to accept the mantle of poet is to carry the cross of the Son of Man, to suffer the birth pangs of the Soul-Mother of Humanity.

To be a poet, I realized, a true poet, was to become the Avatar of humanity incarnate; to accept the mantle of poet is to carry the cross of the Son of Man, to suffer the birth pangs of the Soul-Mother of Humanity. To be a true poet is to become God.    I tried to explain this to my friends on Heaven's Gate. "Piss, shit," I said. "Asshole motherfucker, goddamn shit goddamn. Cunt. Pee-pee cunt. Goddamn!

The cybrid allows me to carry out my role in the datumplane community." "As poet?" Johnny smiled again. "More as poem," he said. "A poem?" "An ongoing work of art Ã¢â'¬Â¦ but not in the human sense. A puzzle perhaps. A variable enigma which occasionally offers unusual insights into more serious lines of analysis.

Was I a swordsman then? sends Johnny. Or a poet? [Yes There is never one without the other]

Belief in one's identity as a poet or writer prior to the acid test of publication is as naive and harmless as the youthful belief in one's immortality Ã¢â'¬Â¦ and the inevitable disillusionment is just as painful.

I knew him, Horatio," said the drunken poet. "A man of infinite jest. Not one of them funny. A real horse's ass, Horatio.

But love...of whom? I say at last. Of what? What great passion would forestall death? Her graceful eyebrow arches, You do not know? You, a poet? I do not know. I say as much. She leans forward so that I can hear the rustle of her starched cotton blouse and silk beneath. Our faces are so close that I can feel the warmth from her skin. Then you need more time to learn, she whispers, her voice as filled with emotion as when she cried out last night.

Silenus's true age might be anywhere from ninety to a hundred and fifty standard years. If he were close to the latter age, the Consul knew, the odds were that the poet was quite mad. As

I am merely a poet dying far from home.

Belief in one's identity as a poet or writer prior to the acid test of publication is as naive and harmless as the youthful belief in one's immortality…and the inevitable disillusionment is just as painful.

If there is a god [...] he's a poet. And a failed one at that.

Maturing as a poet means maturing as the whole man, experiencing new emotions appropriate to one's age, and with the same intensity as the emotions of youth.

Just so, an honest poet who is making a poem is doing neither more nor less than making a poem, I distracted by the thought even that it will be read. Poets, or some poets, bear witness as faithfully as possible to what they have experienced or observed, suffered or enjoyed, and this inevitably is instructive to anybody able to be instructed. But the instruction is secondary. It must be embodied in the work.

All a poet can do today is warn. That is why the true Poets must be truthful.

One day he asked a visitor whence he came. "From Mr. Haller's." "He is a great man," said Voltaire; "a great poet, a great naturalist, a great philosopher, almost a universal genius." "What you say, sir, is the more admirable, as Mr. Haller does not do you the same justice." "Ah," said Voltaire, "perhaps we are both mistaken.

One Power alone makes a Poet: Imagination, the Divine Vision.

Bil ki; Milton'?n Tanr?'y? ve Melekleri tutuk halde yazmas?n?n, ancak Åžeytanlardan ve Cehennemden özgürce söz etmesinin nedeni onun gerçek bir Åžair olmas? ve bilmeden Åžeytanlar?n taraf?nda yer almas?d?r.

You remember I had a strong inclination all my life to be a painter. Under different circumstances I would rather have been a painter than to bother with these god-damn words. I never actually thought of myself as a poet but I knew I had to be an artist in some way.

A man is indeed a city, and for the poet there are no ideas but in things.

The poet thinks with his poem...