Quotes About Poetry

Miss MacIntosh, My Darling stands out in my mind as the most significant innovative novel since Ulysses and The Waves . Marguerite Young has added epic grandeur to the philosophical novel. Every page gleams with the poetry of existence.

Reconstructing the past is rather like translating poetry. It can be done, but never exactly.

And the second question, can poetry be taught? I didn't think so.

I was very interested in American poetry for many years. Much less now.

When I was asked to be Writer in Residence at Edinburgh I thought, you can't teach poetry. This is ridiculous.

However, I learned something. I thought that if the young person, the student, has poetry in him or her, to offer them help is like offering a propeller to a bird.

All those authors there, most of whom of course I've never met. That's the poetry side, that's the prose side, that's the fishing and miscellaneous behind me. You get an affection for books that you've enjoyed.

In fact a lot of them I think are absolute baloney. Those Charles Olsens and people like that. At first I was interested in seeing what they were up to, what they were doing, why they were doing it. They never moved me in the way that one is moved by true poetry.

The day Was like the buzzard on the pine.

Even Rudyard Kipling, that most patriotic of poets, whose only son was killed on his first day on the Western front, could write in 1919, in the persona of a dead soldier, "If any question why we died / Tell them 'Because our fathers lied.

Freedom is poetry, taking liberties with words, breaking the rules of normal speech, violating common sense. Freedom is violence.

The opposite of war, the true war, is poetry

Between religion's this is and poetry's but suppose this is, there must always be some kind of tension, until the possible and the actual meet at infinity.

The gods and heroes of the old myths fade away and give place to people like ourselves. In Shakespeare we can still have heroes who can see ghosts and talk in magnificent poetry, but by the time we get to Beckett's Waiting for Godot they're speaking prose and have turned into ghosts themselves.

Literature's world is a concrete human world of immediate experience. The poet uses images and objects and sensations much more than he uses abstract ideas; the novelist is concerned with telling stories, not with working out arguments.

We then discover that we have no word, corresponding to "poem" in poetry or "play" in drama, to describe a work of literary art. It is all very well for Blake to say that to generalize is to be an idiot, but when we find ourselves in the cultural situation of savages who have words for ash and willow and no word for tree, we wonder if there is not such a thing as being too deficient in the capacity to generalize.

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.

Bütün tutkular bir trajedi gibi son bulur. Tek yanl? her ?ey, ölümle biter -i?te duygu felsefesi- i?te hayal gücü felsefesi, i?te dü?ünce felsefesi. Bütün hayat, ya?l?l?k ve ölümle son bulur. Her ?iirde trajik bir yan vard?r. Hakikî ?akan?n temelinde ciddiyet yatar. Fars?n, kukla oyununun, en renkli hayat?n, âdînin, trajik etkisi.

Bütün tutkular bir trajedi gibi son bulur. Tek yanl? her ?ey, ölümle biter -i?te duygu felsefesi- i?te hayal gücü felsefesi, i?te dü?ünce felsefesi. Bütün hayat, ya?l?l?k ve ölümle son bulur. Her ?iirde trajik bir yan vard?r. Hakikî ?akan?n temelinde ciddiyet yatar. Fars?n, kukla oyununun, en renkli hayat?n, âdînin, arabeskin trajik etkisi.

Il senso per la poesia ha molto in comune con il senso per il misticismo. [...] Rappresenta l'irrappresentabile, vede l'invisibile, sente il non sensibile.

Bütün tutkular bir trajedi gibi son bulur. Tek yanl? her ?ey, ölümle biter -i?te duygu felsefesi- i?te hayal gücü felsefesi, i?te dü?ünce felsefesi. Bütün hayat, ya?l?l?k ve ölümle son bulur. Her ?iirde trajik bir yan vard?r. Hakikî ?akan?n temelinde ciddiyet yatar. Fars?n, kukla oyunun, en renkli hayat?n, âdînin, trajik etkisi.

I was a happy young woman and I just happened to write poetry. I wasn't trying to get anywhere, I was where I wanted to be..." Rest In love Queen!!

i am really colored & really sad sometimes & you hurt me more than i ever danced outta/ i am ready to die like a lily in the desert/ & i cdnt let you in on it cuz i didnt know/ here is what i have/ poems/ big thighs/ lil tits/ & so much love/ will you take it from me this one time/ please this is for you

You see how all occidental art loses by the fact that the magnificent expressions of love have been denied it. With us, eroticism is poor, stupid and frigid. It is always presented in ambiguous attitudes of sin, while here it preserves all its vital scope, all its passionate poetry and the stupendous pulse of all nature. But you are only a european lover... a poor, timid, chilly little soul.