Quotes About Poetry

I've always written, all my life, and when I was very young I developed an interest in poetry.

But one does not make living writing poetry unless you're a professor, and one frankly doesn't get a lot of girls as a poet.

At the top of the heap is poetry,at least as it used to be written.Nothing else goes far,nothing goes as deep n the blood and soul.Shakespeare surpasses Beethoven because he had sound and meaning.Always remember that as you get older.Poetry is in the emprean,TV is in the pit

Because beautiful things never last. Not roses nor snow… And not fireworks, either

she had said no. "Reading became my sanctuary," Belle continued. "I found so much in those books. I found histories that inspired me. Poems that delighted me. Novels that challenged me…" Belle paused, suddenly self-conscious. She looked down at her hands, and in a wistful voice, said, "What I really found, though, was myself.

I managed to memorize half of "The Eve of St. Agnes," and would mutter stanzas to myself when I was bored, alone, or at aerobics class.

Dennis sold vintage weed: Humboldt Homegrown, Eureka Gold, weed from back in the day when marijuana was leafy and harsh and full of seeds but delivered a high that was the weed equivalent of vinyl: "whorled" and "crosshatched," "sonorous" and "plump" (Dennis's MFA in poetry served him well in these marketing descriptions)—in other words, authentic in ways that the bloodless, odorless tinctures that passed for weed nowadays were not.

Wallace Stevens wrote, "After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption.

Poetry must be as new as foam, and as old as the rock.

O thy sweet tongue must plead for me

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

I'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, That must have been the sun!

To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—

Tell all the truth but tell it slant.

A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in

Have you got a brook in your little heart, Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drink, And shadows tremble so?

It's all i have to bring today this and my heart beside this and my heart and all the fields and all the meadows wide be sure to count should i forget someone the sum could tell this and my heart and all the bees which in the clovers dwell

Tell the truth, but tell it slant.

Now, when I read, I read not, For interrupting tears Obliterate the etchings Too costly for repairs.

Beauty crowds me till I die. Emily Dickinson

This quiet dust was gentlemen and ladies.

Did you ever read one of her Poems backward, because the plunge from the front overturned you? I sometimes (often have, many times) have - A something overtakes the Mind.

Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson