We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention. - John Keats

Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too,
Double-lived in regions new?

A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence; because he has no identity — he is continually informing — and filling some other body.

The poetry of earth is never dead.