36 Quotes Tagged: Poetry

Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.

There was even a scrap of poetry he treasured which stated that a moving finger having once written could never be lured back to unwrite.

You see, in love, you don’t get what you want.
You get what you think you get.

Again I see you, But me I don't see!, The magical mirror in which I saw myself has been broken, And only a piece of me I see in each fatal fragment - Only a piece of you and me!...

Perhaps no poet is a conscious plagiarist; but there seems to be warrant for suspecting that there is no poet who is not at one time or another an unconscious one.

Si la liberación no está dentro de mí, no está, para mi, en ninguna parte.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

Tenía unas páginas de poesía, que guardaba con indecible cariño, donde se podía leer que lo que una mano había hecho nunca podía deshacerlo.

Mon Dieu, la vie est par trop moche.

The world and the friends that lived in it are shadows: you alone remain real in this drowsing room.

What of the Athenian last year on whose bosom
a committee hung a medal to say to the world
here is a champion heavyweight poet?
He stood on a two-masted schooner
and flung his medal far out on the sea bosom.
“And why not?
Has anybody ever given the ocean a medal?
Who of the poets equals the music of the sea?
And where is a symbol of the people
unless it is the sea?

You will tell me that you wish
I would give you another chance.
And I will tell you that I wished
you never walked away
when you walked away.
But you still walked away.
You will tell me that you were not
yourself when you walked away.
And I will tell you that I was not
myself when I thought that
you were the one.

Lord, may the pain be ours, And the weakness that it brings, But at least give us the strength, Of not showing it to anyone!

My heart crumbles
into my aching soul
because I know that
I will never get the answer,
but all I want to ask you is:
Why did you ask me to love you
when you had no intention
of loving me?

To have touched the feet of Christ is no excuse for mistakes in punctuation.

If a man writes well only when he's drunk, then I'll tell him: Get drunk. And if he says that it's bad for his liver, I'll answer: What's your liver? A dead thing that lives while you live, whereas the poems you write live without while.