Great writers experience their dreams. They put them on paper, where others can read about them.

We must listen to poets.

Young children and old ladies have inspired me more than poets and philosophers.

I think of poets as outlaw visionaries in a way.

Poets are simply those who have made a profession ans a lifestyle of being in touch with their bliss.

The words of the true poems give you more than poems, they give you to form for yourself poems, religions, politics, war, peace, behavior, histories, essays, daily life, & everything else, they balance the ranks,...

to be a poet meansto live with a permanent wound forever susceptibleto either the shade of the skyor someone’s eyes.

The writing talent of Edinburgh is textured – we have poets, novelists, non-fiction writers, dramatists and more.

I learn life from the poets.

You don’t know anything, but I know even less.

Although all days are equally long regardless of the season, some days are long not only seasonally but by rewards they offer.

The deeper thought is, the taller it becomes.

Deceit dispels the boredom of the Absolute.

The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets.

Poetry was not meant to be a workhorse; it was not designed to paint pretty moral pictures of life; it was not brought into being to confuse us with cryptograms, or high platitudes, or pompous...

Them lady poets must not marry, pal . . . It is a true error to marry with poets / or to be by them.

#Writers, #artists , and #poets don’t get the respect they deserve until they are either dead, or they cut off an ear Mozaiah T.

Painters–and storytellers, including poets and playwrights and historians, they are the justices of the Supreme Court of Good and Evil, of which I am now a member, and to which you may belong someday!

Poets make the best topographers.

Freud thought that a psychosis was a waking dream, and that poets were daydreamers too, but I wonder if the reverse is not as often true, and that madness is a fiction lived in like...

funny how our heartswere designed to loveso fiercely.but break ever so gently.

You were the poem I never knew how to write because no words could describe the wind you cannot see, but feel.

You are the hybrids of golden worlds and ages splendidly conceived.

Latvieši, kā visiem zināms, ir dzejnieku tauta. Tikai pavisam retais latvietis nebūs vismaz jaunībā kaut drusku pavingrinājies dzejot… Zīmīgi un apbrīnojami, ka latviešu apsēstība ar dzeju izveidojusies par spīti tam, ka dzejo latviski ir nesalīdzināmi...

Pose your questions to people and you will get countless useless answers.

The game itself is bigger than the winning.

Arrival in the world is really a departure and that, which we call departure, is only a return.

When the others were picked up and walked home by friends or fathers or best friend’s sisters,I was the kid in a grey hoodie, walking with the poets, the singers, the thinkers, and I was...

The poet or the revolutionary is there to articulate the necessity, but until the people themselves apprehend it, nothing can happen … Perhaps it can’t be done without the poet, but it certainly can’t be...

I had never known any man to die while speaking in terza-rima

I’d spent way more years worrying about how to look like a poet — buying black clothes, smearing on scarlet lipstick, languidly draping myself over thrift-store furniture — than I had learning how to assemble...

Oh, there are no living poets, Miss Van Damn. We’re not entirely sure there ever were. They’ve found some shreds of sonnets in England and, embedded in a chalk wall of a cave in France,...

A poem is a meteor.

a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,when I don’t know, if you will ever come...

poets. have the toughest jobin the universe-of turning silenceinto eloquence.

Evening came, a paw, to the gray hut by the river.

Therefore, since the world has stillMuch good, but much less good than ill,And while the sun and moon endureLuck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure,I’d face it as a wise man would,And train for ill and...

God is a cloud from which rain fell.

They blossomed, they did not talk about blossoming.

Now that we are all so smart, we don’t easily find resolutions.

Different languages, the same thoughts; servant to thoughts and their masters.

The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn....

Don’t ask me any questions. I’ve seen how things that seek their way find their void instead.

Poets create gods, philosophers destroy them.

It is ferocious, life, but it must eat . . .

If the poets offered us nothing more than another make-believe world, they would be mere sellers of drugs or, at best, sweetmeats.

I think writers are the most narcissistic people. Well, I musn’t say this, I like many of them, a great many of my friends are writers.

A poem in the heart is worthmore than a million dollarsin the bank account.

Although Poets are vain and ambitious, their vanity and ambition are of the purest kind attainable in this world. They are ambitious to be accepted for what they altimately are as revealed in their poetry.

Omnipotence and omniscience are the end of power and knowledge.