My poetry journey into the wilderness of language was a journey where each point of arrival turned out to be a stepping stone rather than a destinati… - Seamus Heaney

"Since when," he asked,
"Are the first line and last line of any poem
Where the poem begins and ends?"

No windfall or good fortune comes to mortals
That isn't paid for in the coin of pain.

Here is the great paradox of poetry and of the imaginative arts in general. Faced with the brutality of the historical onslaught, they are practically useless. Yet they verify our singularity, they strike out the ore of self which lies at the base of every individuated life. In one sense the efficacy of poetry is nil – no lyric has ever stopped a tank. In another sense it is unlimited. It is like the writing in the sand in the face of which accusers and accused are left speechless and renewed.