Poetry Quotes

What we encounter in works of art and philosophy are objective versions of our own pains and struggl...

Romantic poetry had its heyday when people like Lord Byron were kicking it large. But you try and ma...

As if this great outburst of anger had purged all my ills, killed all my hopes, I looked up at the m...

In scientific thinking are always present elements of poetry. Science and music requires a thought h...

Mon Dieu, la vie est par trop moche.

Only times and places, only names and ghosts.

My soul is a pale, tenuous membrane..."That was pleasing: a thin, tenuous membrane. It had the right...

The world and the friends that lived in it are shadows: you alone remain real in this drowsing room.

Shut lips, sleeping faces,Every stopped machine,The dumb and littered placesWhere crowds have been:....

He wanted to imprison his nameless misery in words.

Some men are born sodomites, some achieve sodomy, and some have sodomy thrust upon them...

The Wit of Cheats, the Courage of a Whore,Are what ten thousand envy and adore:All, all look up, wit...

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,To raise the genius, and to mend the heart

Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to seeMen not afraid of God afraid of me.

Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescrib'd, their present state; ...

Oh let me live my own! and die so too! ("To live and die is all I have to do:") Maintain a poet's di...

A little learning is a dangerous thing.Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian Spring;There shallow dra...

True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'dWhat oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;Something w...

Music resembles poetry, in eachAre nameless graces which no methods teach,And which a master hand al...

Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never Is, but always To be blest. The soul, uneasy, an...

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan,The proper study of mankind is Man.Placed on this isthmus...

In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies;All quit their sphere and rush into the skies.Pride sti...

Remembrance and reflection how allied!What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!

Some who grow dull religious straight commenceAnd gain in morals what they lose in sense.

Wise wretch! with pleasures too refined to please,With too much spirit to be e'er at ease,With too m...

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;Thus unlamented let me die;Steal from the world, and not a stoneTe...

Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,In pleasing memory of all he stole.

While pensive poets painful vigils keep,Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

I began a poem in lines of one syllable. It's rather difficult, but the merit of all things lies in ...

Nothing conceivable is so petty, so insipid, so crowded with paltry interests, in one word, so anti-...

I have only to contemplate myself; man comes from nothing, passes through time, and disappears forev...

Aristocracy naturally leads the human mind to the contemplation of the past, and fixes it there. Dem...

But now, you are twain, you are cloven apartFlesh of his flesh, but heart of my heart.

Even as I hold youI think of you as someone gonefar, far away. Your eyes the colorof pennies in a bo...

When I no longer have your heartI will not request your bodyyour presenceor even your polite convers...

Another lover hits the universe. The circle is broken. But with death comes rebirth. And like all lo...

Democracy! Bah! When I hear that I reach for my feather boa!

Poets are damned… but see with the eyes of angels.

one must verge on the unknown, write toward the truth hitherto unrecognizable of one’s own sincerity...

If I had a soul I sold itfor pretty wordsIf I had a body I usedit up spurting my essenceAllen Ginsbe...

I never dreamed the sea so deep,The earth so dark; so long my sleep,I have become another child.I wa...

I would rather go mad, gone down the dark road to Mexico, heroin dripping in my veins, eyes and ears...

I learned a world from each / one whom I loved

I really believe, or want to believe, really I am nuts, otherwise I'll never be sane.

The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand...

Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!The world is...

Man is no form no mighty molecule no justidea alone — all that Thing — I feel man tender radiance at...

Mathematics and poetry are the two ways to drink the beauty of truth.

Yoga is an exact science in the form of poetry when we measure the flow of neurotransmitters in the ...

Exercises are like prose, whereas yoga is the poetry of movements. Once you understand the grammar o...

For books are more than books, they are the lifeThe very heart and core of ages past,The reason why ...

A black cat among roses,phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon,the sweet smells of heliotrope and ...

You are ice and fire The touch of you burns my hands like snow

I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart againstThe want of you;Of squeezing it into little inkdrops...

The inkstand is full of ink, and the paper lies white and unspotted, in the round of light thrown by...

Women Are Not RosesWomen have no beginningonly continualflows.Though rivers flowwomen are notrivers....

I'm in love with New York. It matches my mood. I'm not overwhelmed. It is the suitable scene for my ...

I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

A voice that had traversed the centuries, so heavy it broke what it touched, so heavy I feared it wo...

At first I protested and rebelled against poetry. I was about to deny my poetic worlds. I was doing ...

A poet is someone who can use a single image to send a universal message.

Poetry is an awareness of the world, a particular way of relating to reality.

Fee-fi-fo-fum -Now I'm borrowed.Now I'm numb.

To wander solitary there:Two paradises ‘twere in oneTo live in paradise alone.

My vegetable love will growVaster than empires, and more slow.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul ...

As lines, so loves oblique may well Themselves in every angle greet; But ours so truly parallel, Tho...

But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deser...

Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul ...

Had we but world enough, and time

The grave's a fine and private place,But none, I think, do there embrace.

But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near

Had we but world enough, and time...

Had we but world enough and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down, and think wh...

Thus, though we cannot make our sunStand still, yet we will make him run.

Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Poems are a hotline to our hearts, and we forget this emotional power at our peril.

Those who say we should dismantle the role of Poet Laureate altogether, the trick they miss is that ...

The pure playfulness of certain wholly whimsical portions of (Charles) Cros’s work should not obscur...

My wife with the hair of a wood fireWith the thoughts of heat lightningWith the waist of an hourglas...

Do you know why our poetry today and especially our philosophy are such dead issues? Because they've...

Sometimes the beauty is easy. Sometimes you don't have to try at all. Sometimes you can hear the win...

As the future ripens in the past,so the past rots in the future --a terrible festival of dead leaves...

Once taken by her, you glowedAnd you drank her poisons, content. Because all the stars seemed to gro...

All my contemporaries—hundred-and-fivers or convicts—will tell you how we livedin barely sentient fe...

I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teac...

We don't know how to say goodbye,We wander on, shoulder to shoulderAlready the sun is going downYou'...

You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the ...

This cruel age has deflected me,like a river from this course.Strayed from its familiar shores,my ch...

Forgive me that I felt forsaken, That grief and angst was all I knew. Forgive me that I kept mistaki...

Why is it that you still beguile me –As wind, stone, bird – and all the likes? Why is that you smile...

I’m happy. But some beauty is nonesuch - The gently sloping path across the wood, The wretched bridg...

No one else was as close and as open, No one else so boiled my blood, Even he, who consigned me to t...

I've ceased to smile long ago, The bitter winds now chill my lips, Another hope was just let go, Ano...

Мы не умеем прощаться,-Всё бродим плечо к плечу.Уже начинает смеркаться,Ты задумчив, а я молчу.В цер...

Лотова ЖенаИ праведник шел за посланником Бога,Огромный и светлый, по черной горе.Но громко жене гов...

There is little premium in poetry in a world that thinks of Pound and Whitman as a weight and a samp...

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue/ Who says my hand a needle better fits./ A poet's pen all scor...

The Author To Her BookThou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,Who after birth did'st by my side...