Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry.
Category: poetry
The poem is a little myth of man’s capacity of making life meaningful. And in the end, the poem is not a thing we see – it is, rather, a light by which we may see – and what we see is life.
Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.
What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music.
If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty.
If you cannot be a poet, be the poem.
I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled poets to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.
A poem is never finished, only abandoned.
When it comes to atoms, language can be used only as in poetry. The poet, too, is not nearly so concerned with describing facts as with creating images.
Every single soul is a poem.
There’s no money in poetry, but then there’s no poetry in money, either.
When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.
You will find poetry nowhere unless you bring some of it with you.
God is the perfect poet.
Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.
Poetry: the best words in the best order.
We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity—it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life.