Quotes About Poetry

The cricket sang, And set the sun

The murmur of a bee

Her face is rounder than the moon

When bumble-bees in solemn flight

His gait was soundless, like the bird

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Oh, what an afternoon for heaven, When 'Brontë' entered there!

Bring me the sunset in a cup." ? Emily Dickinson

I felt a clearing in my mind As if my brain had split ; I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit. The thought behind I strove to join Unto the thought before, But sequence ravelled out of reach Like balls upon a floor.

La genciana trenza sus bordes, el telar del arce está rojo. Mis flores moribundas eluden la ostentación.

Morii per la bellezza ma ero appena abituata alla tomba che uno che morì per la verità fu deposto in una stanza attigua Mi chiese piano "Perché sei mancata?" "Per la bellezza" risposi "E io per la verità sono una cosa sola noi siamo fratelli" disse Così, come congiunti che si incontrino di notte parlammo fra le stanze finché il muschio raggiunse le nostre labbra e coprì i nostri nomi.

No hay una fragata como un libro para llevarnos a tierras lejanas, ni caballos mejores que una página de piafante poesía. Pueden hacer el viaje los más pobres, no se pagan portazgos, porque no necesita casi nada la carroza que lleva al alma humana.

To pile like Thunder to its close, Then crumble grand away, While everything created hid — This would be Poetry: Or Love, — the two coeval came — We both and neither prove, Experience either, and consume — For none see God and live.

Some things that fly there be, — Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:

I'll tell you how the sun rose, — A ribbon at a time.

Fulfilling absolute decree in casual simplicity.

The mind-blowing, ridiculous sex which was the stuff of both poetry and porn - so unlike anything else I had ever experienced before.

I've got such a lovely feeling, said Lucy-Ann, looking the picture of happiness. You know - that feeling you get at the very beginning of a lovely holiday - when all the days spread out before you, sunny & lazy & sort of enchanted. You'll end up by being a poet if you don't look out, said Philip, from the wheel. Well, if a poet feels like I feel just exactly at this moment, I wouldn't mind being one for the rest of my life, even if it meant having to write poetry, said Lucy-Ann.

experiencia poética como solución imaginaria al problema de la realidad, subyace la infraexperiencia del fracaso, la otra cara del «triunfo» que es, de por sí, el arte de la palabra.

For what else is tragedy than the perturbations ([Greek: pathae]) of men who value externals exhibited in this kind of poetry?

But I am wise if not yet quite old, wanting the poem more than the lover, wanting words more than the sticky dew men secrete in their private places.

The truth is: nobody bothers to kill poets in America. It's enough to buy them in universities. Undead.

I don't believe in dying for causes. I don't believe in dying for poetry. Once I worshiped Keats for dying young. Now I think it's braver to die old.

Poetry is a weapon. It is an instrument of social change...and poetry is one of the most political arts out there because it demands that you rupture and destabilize the language in which you're working with. Inherently, you are pushing against the status quo. And so for me, it's always existed in that tradition of truth-telling.