Quotes About Poets

Besides the autumn poets sing, A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the haze... Grand me, O Lord, a sunny mind, Thy windy will to bear!

I reckon—when I count at all—First—Poets—Then the Sun—Then Summer—Then the Heaven of God—And then—the List is done—But, looking back—the First so seemsTo Comprehend the Whole—The Others look a needless Show—So I write—Poets—All—

Hunger is not so violent as love; but the caprices of the soul are more numerous, more bewitching, more exquisite in their intensity than the caprices of gastronomy; but all that the poets and the experiences of our own life have revealed to us on the subject of love, arms us celibates with a terrible power: we are the lion of the Gospel seeking whom we may devour.

Portsmouth has the honor, I believe, of establishing the first recorded pauper workhouse - though not in connection with her poets, as might naturally be supposed.

I think Ginsberg has done more harm to the craft that I honor and live by than anybody else by reducing it to a kind of mean that enables the most dubious practitioners to claim they are poets because they think, If the kind of thing Ginsberg does is poetry, I can do that.

The birds, the poets of the animal creation — what though they never get beyond the lyrical! — awoke to utter their own joy, and awake like joy in others of God's children.

Language ought to be the joint creation of poets and manual workers.

love make us poets, and the approach of death should make us philosophers.

Well, if you think it nothing to send her laudatory verses masquerading as acrostics, and to ransack all the libraries for the works of her favourite poets, you must be as green as she is!' he said caustically. She could not help laughing. 'Does he do so? I thought they were his favourites too: he is certainly very well read in them.' 'Pea-goose! So would you be, if you made it your business to study them!

In the end, time is the best ally of poets. It clarifies their works and makes them accessible to an ever widening circle of readers.

Virtue cannot be taught, no more than genius…We would thus be just as foolish to expect that our moral systems and ethics might awaken the virtuous, noble, and saintly as that our aesthetics might awaken poets, sculptors, and musicians.

What poets they were, those anatomists, my dear sir, what names they gave to all those parts, the purposes of which they didn't understand at all: the hippocampus . . . Ammon's horn . . . the corpora quadrigemina . . . the calcarine fissure . . .

The age-old faith of lovers and poets in the power of love, stronger than death, that finis vitae sed non amoris, is a lie, useless and not even funny.

We all know that we are material creatures, subject to the laws of physiology and physics, and not even the power of all our feelings combined can defeat those laws. All we can do is detest them. The age-old faith of lovers and poets in the power of love, stronger than death, that finis vitae sed non amoris , is a lie, useless and not even funny.

The age-old faith of lovers and poets in the power of love, stronger than death, that finis vitae sed non amoris, is a lie, useless and not even funny. So must one be resigned to being a clock that measures the passage of time, now out of order, now repaired, and whose mechanism generates despair and love as soon as its maker sets it going?

Poets who remain poets have, presumably, worked through the terrors of influence, and are willing to acknowledge their debts by using them in order to go their own way. They've learned what Thomas Mann knew: "A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.

Love isn't soft, like those poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close.

Love is the enemy. Yes...the poets continually and sometimes willfully mistake love. Love is the old slaughterer. Love is not blind. Love is a cannibal with extremely acute vision. Love is insectile; it is always hungry.

In the very end, civilizations perish because they listen to their politicians and not to their poets.

She has her own glamour, Willy lad. All poets do, all the bards and artists, all the musicians who truly take the music into their own hearts. They all straddle the border of Faerie, and they see into both worlds. Not dependably into either, perhaps, but that uncertainty keeps them honest and at a distance.

La ciudad, lo mismo que el bosque, no tiene espíritu. Ese es un invento de los poetas, una prosopopeya voluntaria que venimos repitiendo desde hace más de veinte siglos y que se ha convertido en una verdad de primer orden. (148)

la Revolución ha sido la gran Diosa, la Amada eterna y la gran Puta de poetas y novelistas. Octavio Paz, «La letra y el cetro», septiembre de 1972.

On Memorial Day, I don't want to only remember the combatants. There were also those who came out of the trenches as writers and poets, who started preaching peace, men and women who have made this world a kinder place to live.

There were the usual exhortations to purity – think of the novel not as your opportunity to get rich or famous but to wrestle, in your own way, with the titans of the form – exhortations poets don't have to make, given the economic marginality of the art, an economic marginality that soon all literature will share.