Only poets and philosophers see the world as it really is, for only to them is it given to live without illusions. To see clearly is to not act.

God has his poets; they let him dream.

I bargained with Life for a penny,And Life would pay no more, However I begged at eveningWhen I counted my scanty store;For Life is just an employer,He gives you what you ask,But once you have...

On the last day of the worldI would want to plant a tree

Still, no one finally knows what a poet is supposed either to be or to do. Especially in this country, one takes on the job—because all that one does in America is considered a “job”—with...

poetry. i am not writing it.(make way for me please)it is my skin. dripping with light.

Nowadays you have to be a scientist if you want to be a killer. No, no, I was neither. Ladies and gentleman of the jury, the majority of sex offenders that hanker for some throbbing,...

Most people don’t have real friends. You have people in your life waiting for opportunities to see what YOU can do for them.

Hope without love is hopeless.

If what we think of ourselves were true, the planet would overflow with geniuses.

You mark and celebrate errors, transforming failures into successes.

Life is only a flicker of melted ice.

The life of a poet lies not merely in the finite language-dance of expression but in the nearly infinite combinations of perception and memory combined with the sensitivity to what is perceived and remembered.

There are two types of poets: People who write poetically about their lives, and poets that live poetically and write about it.

Be a poet in action as well as in words.

What was it Like?””What was what like?” he said, although he knew.”Quick, I imagine. But you must have perceived something. A split second of vanishing awareness. A grasping at a shrinking light.” “It was like...

I find my data first in myself, not first in the poets. For if I did not find it in myself, I would not be able to find it in the poets.

From oriole to crow, note the declineIn music. Crow is realist. But, then,Oriole, also, may be realist.

How….will I ever truly depict you?You’re perfect, my writing isn’t.

depth and substance.the two most exquisite qualities. be it in a poemor a person.

[poems are] crystals deposited after the effervescent contact of the spirit with reality.(cristaux deposes apres l’effervescent contact de l’esprit avec la realite)

Poets and heroes are of the same race, the latter do what the former conceive.

Serious affairs and history are carefully laid snares for the uninformed.

Strangers are endearing because you don’t know them yet.

Do not look too far for you will see nothing.

Unborn eternity does not die; existence is dying and falls asleep in the eternity beyond existence.

Give me a life time by the fire, with a book in my hand, nothing more and I will tell you a great story.

Words are fossilized butterfly wings,pretty to look at sometimes,but only good for Museums.I want to miserably burn down the Museums.

Carpe diem.Seize the day, boys.Make your lives extraordinary

The pen, a double-edged mystery: cuts the writer, heals the reader.

A poet is a musician that can’t sing. Words have to find a man’s mind before they can touch his heart, and some men’s minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly no...

What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music…. And...

Someday I will walk under the soul-blossom tree with my hand eternally woven in yours.

But that so many scholars are barbarians does not much matter so long as a few of them are ready to help with their specialized knowledge the few independent thinkers, that is to say the...

Come writers and criticsWho prophesize with your penAnd keep your eyes wideThe chance won’t come againAnd don’t speak too soonFor the wheel’s still in spinAnd there’s no tellin’ whoThat it’s namin’For the loser nowWill be...

In the essence of truth lies deceit.

Tell me something only you know and make a new friend.

Faith is a question of eyesight; even the blind can see that.

Truth is hard-hearted and unrelenting, too clear, precise; a lie is much more imaginative.

In the case of Michel Angelo we have an artist who with brush and chisel portrayed literally thousands of human forms; but with this peculiarity, that while scores and scores of his male figures are...

Why do I write? Out of fear. Out of fear that the memory of the people I write about might go lost. Out of fear that the memory of myself might get lost. Or even...

Every notary carries about inside him the debris of a poet.

It is very difficult to win. It’s not in my script.

Tužna projekcija života za pjesnika je primamljivija od samog života.

My girl was mad and I loved her. Upon a night, she read my poetry; and kissing me madly she cried, ‘You are a genius, my love!’ To which I replied, ‘My girl,’ whispering, ‘Every...

. . . a racer snake / slicking off / like a signature into the weeds.

wordslike mysterious mermaids come and live permanentlyin the soft sweepsand scars of my skin.

A poet’s work . . . to name the unnamable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world and stop it from going to sleep.

The difference between a poet and a philosopher is that the poet sees logically and describes basically the beauty whereas the philosopher defines the basics and shows the beauty of logics.

I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.