Poetry Quotes — page 17

Where go the poet's lines? Answer, ye evening tapers! Ye auburn locks, ye golden curls, Speak from your folded papers!

Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.

In sober mornings, do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse.

God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.

Ah! two desires toss about The poet's feverish blood; One drives him to the world without, And one to solitude.

Here I swear, and as I break my oath may Infinity Eternity blast me, here I swear that never will I forgive Christianity! It is the only point on which I allow myself to encourage revenge... Oh, how I wish I were the Antichrist, that it …

Unless we consent to lack the common things which men call success, we shall hardly become heroes or saints, philosophers or poets.

For now the poet can not die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry.

The public want actresses, because they think all actresses bad. They don't want music or poetry because they know that both are good. So actors and actresses thrive and poets and composers starve.

The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet's dream.

There Poetry shall tune her sacred voice, And wake from ignorance the Western World.

Poetry is the mysticism of mankind.

The poetical character... is not itself — it has no self — it is every thing and nothing — It has no character — it enjoys light and shade; it lives in gusto, be it fair or foul, high or low, rich or poor, mean or elevated. — It has as …

It is a delicate & difficult art fitting rhythm to an idea...communicating momentary phases in a poet's mind.

A poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul.

— a poet's love Is immortality!

The fierce poet of the Middle Ages wrote, "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here," over the gates of the lower world. The emancipated poets of to-day have written it over the gates of this world.

Thou Wert living the same poet which thou'rt now, Whilst Angels sing to thee their airs divine, And joy in an applause so great as thine. Equal society with them to hold, Thou need'st not make new aongs, but say the old.

Words, once my stock, are wanting to commend So great a poet and so good a friend.

However poetry may have been dishonoured by the follies of some and the vices of others, the abuse or corruption of the best things being always the worst, it will notwithstanding be ever regarded, as it ever has been, by the wisest and …

Marlowe, bathed in Thespian springs Had in him those brave translunary things, That the first poets had.

The truth is, that those who have never entered upon scientific pursuits know not a tithe of the poetry by which they are surrounded.

poets have found religion in Nature; people live in the country to learn virtue from plants. It is in their indifference that they are comforting. That snowfield of the mind, where man has not trodden, is visited by the cloud, kissed by …

a good poet's made, as well as born. And such wert thou.