Browsing Topic Best Poet Quotes

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.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.

Bad luck for the young poet would be a rich father, an early marriage, an early success or the ability to do anything well.

Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.

Most writers – poets in especial – prefer having it understood that they compose by a species of fine frenzy – an ecstatic intuition – and would positively shudder at letting the public take a peep behind the scenes.

How poetry comes to the poet is a mystery.

They have the guns, we have the poets. Therefore, we will win.

We are pantheists as natural scientists, polytheists as poets, and monotheists as moral beings.

Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.

For the Persian poet Rumi, each human life is analogous to a bowl floating on the surface of an infinite ocean. As it moves along, it is slowly filling with the water around it. That’s a metaphor for the acquisition of knowledge. When the water in the bowl finally reaches the same level as the water outside, there is no longer any need for the container, and it drops away as the inner water merges with the outside water. We call this the moment of death. That analogy returns to me over and over as a metaphor for ourselves.

My business is words. Words are like labels,or coins, or better, like swarming bees.

Many people I know – writers, poets – they have all been sentenced not once but sometimes three times after they come out. They serve five or six years, come out another time, and then nine years. Come out again, 12 years. Only because they have a different opinion. They are innocent people, they have beautiful minds, beautiful hearts.

The lamp you lighted in the olden time Will show you my heart’s-blood beating through the rhyme: A poet’s journal, writ in fire and tears… Then slow deliverance, with the gaps of years.

There are confessable agonies, sufferings of which one can positively be proud. Of bereavement, of parting, of the sense of sin and the fear of death the poets have eloquently spoken. They command the world’s sympathy. But there are also discreditable anguishes, no less excruciating than the others, but of which the sufferer dare not, cannot speak. The anguish of thwarted desire, for example.

The poet, as a rule, is a half-man – a sissy, not a real person, and he is in no shape to lead real men in matters of blood, or courage.

Shall we speak of the inspiration of a poet or a priest, and not of the heart impelled by love and self-devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life?

Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings, and making music with them.

The scientist has marched in and taken the place of the poet. But one day somebody will find the solution to the problems of the world and remember, it will be a poet, not a scientist.

All language is rhetorical, and even the senses are poets.

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.

Indians are the Italians of Asia and vice versa. Every man in both countries is a singer when he is happy, and every woman is a dancer when she walks to the shop at the corner. For them, food is the music inside the body and music is the food inside the heart. Amore or Pyar makes every man a poet, a princess of peasant girl if only for second eyes of man and woman meets.

Science is not addressed to poets.

I carry my unwritten poems in cipher on my face!

I am what libraries and librarians have made me, with little assistance from a professor of Greek and poets

You must have a certain amount of maturity to be a poet. Seldom do sixteen-year-olds know themselves well enough.

God Himself is the best Poet, And the Real is His song.

Like my old mentor would always say, Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice and I’ll be dead.” Okay, she wasn’t a good poet, but that lady could handle her whiskey.

The poet craves emotion, and feeds the fire that consumes him, and only under this condition is he baptized with creative power.

Some find Lebanese poet Kahlil Gibran’s poetry preachy and moralizing, but I find it plenty enlightening—it’s hard to object to the melodic, cosmic of mysticism of a line like ‘That which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.’

To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.

Our poets are men of talents who sing, and not the children of music.

There’s nothing wrong with delighting in what you do. In fact, most of the fun you’ll have as a poet will come about during the process of writing.

The end of spring- the poet is brooding about editors.

God, she was beautiful – my first image of the Orient – a woman such as only the desert poet knew how to praise: her face was the sun, her hair the protecting shadow, her eyes fountains of cool water, her body the most slender of palm-trees and her smile a mirage.

We are, always, poets, exploring possibilities of meaning in a world which is also all the time exploring possibilities.