poetry

"But you hate poetry!Yes, but you make me want to write it."

"Nothing is more natural than mutual misunderstanding; the contrary is always surprising. I believe that one never agrees on anything except by mistake, and that all harmony among human beings is the happy fruit of an error."

"There are only four times a year I love you: summer, fall, winter, and spring. I'll love you until the sun stops shining, until the clouds dissipate, when Mount Everest no longer has snow, and the flowers stop blooming.-Jarod Kintz and Karen Quan"

"Come away, O human child!To the waters and the wildWith a faery, hand in hand,For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."

"Into my heart an air that killsFrom yon far country blows:What are those blue remembered hills,What spires, what farms are those?That is the land of lost content,I see it shining plain,The happy highways where I wentAnd cannot come again."

"I bring you with reverent handsThe books of my numberless dreams."

"I think we are in rats’ alley Where the dead men lost their bones."

"My turn shall also come:I sense the spreading of a wing."

"I see your picture and in that picture I didn't see you."

"I have been used to consider poetry as "the food of love"said Darcy."Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what isstrong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, Iam convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."

"We had a lavender kind of love, so soothing and smooth, and if I could bottle up what we had, you'd want it all over your body."

"I am deliberate and afraid of nothing."

"All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. To be natural is to be obvious, and to be obvious is to be inartistic."

"You must give everything to make your life as beautiful as the dreams that dance in your imagination."

"Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance."

"Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman."

"To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the music the words make."

"O may I join the choir invisibleOf those immortal dead who live againIn minds made better by their presence; liveIn pulses stirred to generosity,In deeds of daring rectitude..."

"The way a crowShook down on meThe dust of snowFrom a hemlock treeHas given my heartA change of moodAnd saved some partOf a day I had rued."

"Talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish."