You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all read more
Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.
For me, poetry is an impish attempt to paint the colour of the wind.
For me, poetry is an impish attempt to paint the colour of the wind.
For there is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a
biography, the life of a read more
For there is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a
biography, the life of a man; also, it may be said, there is no
life of a man, faithfully recorded, but is a heroic poem of its
sort, rhymed or unrhymed.
Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
read more
Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
By winding myrtle round your ruin'd shed?
Poetry is not a profession, it is a destiny.
Poetry is not a profession, it is a destiny.
Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings, and making music with them.
Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings, and making music with them.
Made poetry a mere mechanic art.
Made poetry a mere mechanic art.
