Poetry Quotes

When you are old and grey and full of sleep And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep

To feel most beautifully alive means to be reading something beautiful, ready always to apprehend in the flow of language the sudden flash of poetry.

I've triedto become someone else for a while, only to discover that he, too, was me.

Truths are written, never said... Lines are drawn, but then they fade.

I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another til I drop.

You dance inside my chest, where no one sees you, but sometimes I do, and thatsight becomes this art.

The difference between the poet and the mathematician is that the poet tries to get his head into the heavens while the mathematician tries to get the heavens into his head.

A poet's autobiography is his poetry. Anything else is just a footnote.

Is it the sea you hear in me, Its dissatisfactions?Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness?

Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.

See with your soul and not your eyesbecause to dance with the beasts youmust penetrate their disguise.

But my heart is an old house(the kind my mothergrew up in)hell to heat and cooland faulty in the wiringand though it’s nice to look atI have no businessinviting lovers in.

You lethargic, waiting upon me, waiting for the fire and Iattendant upon you, shaken by your beautyShaken by your beauty Shaken.

Sometimes you need to sit lonely on the floor in a quiet room in order to hear your own voice and not let it drown in the noise of others.

My world was the size of a crayon box, and it took every colour to draw her

Sparrows and cats will live in my shoe, Sooner than I will live with you.Fish will come walking out of the sea, Sooner than you will come back to me.

Your thighs are appletrees. Your knees are a southern breeze.

It is at the edge of the petal that love waits

You see how I tryTo reach with wordsWhat matters mostAnd how I fail.

We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains. 93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars that have people names.

I don't think all writers are sad, she said.I think it's the other way around—all sad people write.

So here is my story, may it bringSome smiles and a tear or so, It happened once upon a time, Far away, and long ago, Outside the night wind keens and wails, Come listen to me, the Teller of Tales!

The blood jet is poetryThere is no stopping it.

My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.

Where the bright seraphim in burning rowTheir loud uplifted angel trumpets blow.

So I find words I never thought to speakIn streets I never thought I should revisitWhen I left my body on a distant shore.

O love, how did you get here?--Nick and the Candlestick

A lot we have in our head, But things of heart are not yet dead, They have done none, but just fled, Out of us, Forgotten, just been bled..

Another lover hits the universe. The circle is broken. But with death comes rebirth. And like all lovers and sad people, I am a poet.

No’ might make them angry but it will make you free.

Time held me green and dyingThough I sang in my chains like the sea.

Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.

I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.....

and sometimes I sitdown at my typewriterand I thinknot of someonecause there isn't anyoneto thinkabout and i wonderis it worth it

Nothingwould beeasier withoutyou, because youare everything, all of it-sprinkles, quarks, giantdonuts, eggs sunny-side up-youare the ever-expandinguniverseto me.

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos

Calligraphy of geeseagainst the sky-the moon seals it.

He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There’s a niche in his chestwhere a heart would fit perfectlyand he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place –well then, game over.

Stars open among the lilies.Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?This is the silence of astounded souls.

I will love you with too many commas, but never any asterisks.

I see all of us reading ourselves away from ourselves, straining in circles of light to find more light until the line of words becomes a trail of crumbs that we follow across a page of fresh snow

I'm at that place I grew up to leave.

The world was fair, the mountains tallIn Elder Days before the fall...

As the future ripens in the past, so the past rots in the future --a terrible festival of dead leaves.

I’m not aspiring to be someone else – If I’m me for the rest of my life then so be it

Come live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove

McGough: I'm sorry. I'm afraid I've caught poetry. Mr Bones: Oh really? Well, don't worry, sir - I used to suffer from short stories.McGough: Really? When?Mr Bones: Oh, once upon a time ...

Every beginning has an end and every end has a new beginning, don't worry, broken soul, life will one day come to an end.

Il pleure dans mon coeurComme il pleut sur la ville.Tears are shed in my heart like the rain on the town.

Had we but world enough and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long love’s day.