poetry

poetry

This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.
The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent
Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
Resist much, obey little. Leaves of Grass
Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.
Unbeing dead isn't being alive.
Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. The Tempest
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee And I'll forgive Thy great big one on me.
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.
Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman. A Room of One's Own
Summer night-- even the stars are whispering to each other.
Music is the universal language of mankind.
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
Love consists of this: two solitudes that meet, protect and greet each other.
We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Four Quartets
To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.
Love, the poet said, is woman's whole existence. Orlando
Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
You are never too old to become younger!
April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. The Waste Land
There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within it
The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.
Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain. The Wild Palms
If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place. Letters to a Young Poet
A woman knows very well that, though a wit sends her his poems, praises her judgment, solicits her criticism, and drinks her tea, this by no means signifies that he respects her opinions, admires her understanding, or will refuse, though the rapier is denied him, to run through the body with his pen. Orlando
What a strange thing! to be alive beneath cherry blossoms. Poems
I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart
Every angel is terrifying. Duino Elegies
What can be explained is not poetry.
I know you're tired but come, this is the way.
Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.
Here I'm here- the snow falling.