Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Part of what I try to do in schools is take poetry off of a pedestal and make it a little more accessible and approachable.
I don't think the revisionist historians are accurate. I think their agendas are clouded by selfishness and anger and rage.
Enlightenment is not about becoming divine. Instead it's about becoming more fully human. . . . It is the end of ignorance.
She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.
As a poet I would say everything should be able to come into a poem but I can't put toothbrushes in a poem. I really can't.
Is there any way to safeguard and acquire wealth? Yes, there is one sure way: namely, never to covet the wealth of another.
The year's in wane; There is nothing adorning; The night has no eve, And the day has no morning; Cold winter gives warning!
You are as prone to love as the sun is to shine; it being the most delightful and natural employment of the soul of humans.
A truly vibrant and creative culture depends on a system of education which is not divided along class and sectarian lines.
The category "Women Poets" is bizarre and irrelevant. It's a subcategory of Poets, but there is not a "Men Poets" category.
I do think that given my background as a poet, and also I work in a different field, you're sort of neither here nor there.
What the poet says has never been said before, but, once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves.
Human beings are, necessarily, actors who...can be divided...into the sane who know they are acting and the mad who do not.
The trees encountered on a country stroll Reveal a lot about that country's soul ... A culture is no better than its woods.
The imagination is the liberty of the mind It is intrpeid and eager and the extreme of its achievement lies in abstraction.
The mind is the great poem of winter, the man, Who, to find what will suffice, Destroys romantic tenements Of rose and ice.
A man is a great thing upon the earth and through eternity; but every jot of the greatness of man is unfolded out of woman.
Camden was originally an accident, but I shall never be sorry I was left over in Camden. It has brought me blessed returns.
Write to amuse? What an appalling suggestion! I write to make people anxious and miserable and to worsen their indigestion.
I've said what I'm prepared to say in my poems, and then journalists think that you're going to tell them a whole lot more.
The difference between a bad artist and a good one is: the bad artist seems to copy a great deal; the good one really does.
For where'er the sun does shine, And where'er the rain does fall, Babe can never hunger there, Nor poverty the mind appall.
True love is a discipline in which each divines the secret self of the other and refuses to believe in the mere daily self.
Only that which does not teach, which does not cry out, which does not condescend, which does not explain, is irresistible.
A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
I think it better that in times like these a poet's mouth be silent, for in truth we have no gift to set a statesman right.
Yet will that beauteous image make The dreary sea less drear And thy remembered smile will wake The hope that tramples fear
There is nothing beginning nor end to the imagination but it delights in its own seasons reversing the usual order at will.
To refine, to clarify, to intensify that eternal moment in which we alone live there is but a single force the imagination.
A poem is a small machine made of words. . .Its movement is intrinsic, undulant, a physical more than a literary character.
There is a silence, the child of love, which expresses everything, and proclaims more loudly than the tongue is able to do.
Talking, is a digestive process which is absolutely essential to the mental constitution of the man who devours many books.
The love of wicked men converts to fear; That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death.
Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.
I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.(IAGO,ActI,SceneI)
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven
In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages, long ago betid
In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war.
Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.
I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
His life was gentle; and the elements So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!
What, gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do; it cannot speak, For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see the waters swell before a boisterous storm.
Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn
So, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.
Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
Fools are very often united in the strictest intimacies, as the lighter kinds of woods are the most closely glued together.
Zealous men are ever displaying to you the strength of their belief. while judicious men are showing you the grounds of it.
Zealous men are ever displaying to you the strength of their belief, while judicious men are showing you the grounds of it.
Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were trouble to my dreams.