All Quotes By Tag: Poetry

“Find your souland keep it in your heart.Feed it, honor itfor what it is, your presencein this world, open,fresh, inspirational.”

“CANYONriver, most mighty,waiting for the sun to melta single snowflake”

“Restand wonder. When you riseyou will walk another steptoward one momentand not some othera first step toward changingthe rest of your life.”

“Looking for a mysteryto take over your life?Sit down with some small detaillet it settle like creamin your coffee, swirlinghot, steaming slow, rising”

“Warm someone’s cheekWhisper CaressKiss for 10 seconds, or more, or for the rest of your lifeBe thereLoveLongBelongBe loyalBe loveBe with someone alwaysBelong to yourself”

“This is newness: every little tawdryObstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar,Glinting and clinking in a saint’s falsetto. Only youDon’t know what to make of the sudden slippiness,The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant.There’s no getting up it by the words you know.No getting up by elephant or wheel or shoe.We have only come to look. You are too newTo want the world in a glass hat.”

“In scientific thinking are always present elements of poetry. Science and music requires a thought homogeneous.”

“We walked through night until there was a poem.”

“Honest criticism and sensible appreciation are directed not upon the poet but upon the poetry.”

“Pleasured equallyIn seeking as in finding,Each detail minding,Old Walt went seekingAnd finding.”

“Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.”

“I can’t help but notice that you keep writing love poetry to my wife. Well, you see, I married her, which makes her my wife. You know what you might want to try? Writing some poems about the sunset. The sunset isn’t fucking married.”

“It was language I loved, not meaning. I liked poetry better when I wasn’t sure what it meant. Eliot has said that the meaning of the poem is provided to keep the mind busy while the poem gets on with its work — like the bone thrown to the dog by the robber so he can get on with his work. . . . Is beauty a reminder of something we once knew, with poetry one of its vehicles? Does it give us a brief vision of that ‘rarely glimpsed bright face behind/ the apparency of things’? Here, I suppose, we ought to try the impossible task of defining poetry. No one definition will do. But I must admit to a liking for the words of Thomas Fuller, who said: ‘Poetry is a dangerous honey. I advise thee only to taste it with the Tip of thy finger and not to live upon it. If thou do’st, it will disorder thy Head and give thee dangerous Vertigos.”

“For now, poetry has the capacity – in its own ways and by its own means – to remind us of something we are forbidden to see.”

“Keats mourned that the rainbow, which as a boy had been for him a magic thing, had lost its glory because the physicists had found it resulted merely from the refraction of the sunlight by the raindrops. Yet knowledge of its causation could not spoil the rainbow for me. I am sure that it is not given to man to be omniscient. There will always be something left to know, something to excite the imagination of the poet and those attuned to the great world in which they live (p. 64)”