The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.

A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been read more

A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone's knowledge of himself and the world around him.

The poet, as everyone knows, must strike his individual note sometime between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. He may read more

The poet, as everyone knows, must strike his individual note sometime between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. He may hold it a long time, or a short time, but it is then that he must strike it or never. School and college have been conducted with the almost express purpose of keeping him busy with something else till the danger of his ever creating anything is past.

A poem conveys not a message so much as the provenance of a message, an advent of sense.

A poem conveys not a message so much as the provenance of a message, an advent of sense.

Poetry should be common in experience but uncommon in books.

Poetry should be common in experience but uncommon in books.

A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer... He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove read more

A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer... He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it. A poet utterly clear is a trifle glaring.

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.

A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed read more

A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul.".

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.