Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.
I have tried to live very quietly, so I could be happy.
He wanders, like a day-appearing dream,Through the dim wildernesses of the mind; Through desert woods and tracts, which seem Like ocean, homeless, boundless, unconfined.
An owl sound wandered along the road with me.I didn't hear it--I breathed it into my ears.
A change of style is a change of meaning.
A poet more than thirty years old is simply an overgrown child.
Evening came, a paw, to the gray hut by the river.
The bats inebriate the sky . . .
Although Poets are vain and ambitious, their vanity and ambition are of the purest kind attainable in this world. They are ambitious to be accepted for what they altimately are as revealed in their po...
A single wire hanger on a nail by itselfIsn't bad though a stack of them on a floorIs too gloomy for words.
A poet is a feeling, sentient being, not a word machine.
A poet's fantasy: Hiring a rapper to rap his rhymes.
The poets carry feelings, delivering desires and dispatching dreams. Even if sometimes they need pack some sorrows, distill several disappointments and filter strange nightmares.
Do you know the legend about cicadas? They say they are the souls of poets who cannot keep quiet because, when they were alive, they never wrote the poems they wanted to.
Poets sing our human music for us.
A drainless shower of light is poesy 'tis the supreme of power 'tis might half slumb'ring on its own right arm.
One of Wordsworth's Lake District neighbours remarked upon hearing of the poet's death "I suppose his son will carry on the business."
Poetry is not a profession it's a destiny.
Poetry is the language of a state of crisis.
Poetry must be as new as foam, and as old as the rock.
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