Poets may be delightful creatures in the meadow or the garret, but they are menaces on the assembly line.
Rollo MayTags: creativity poets assembly-line
Poets can dodge. ("Evening Primrose")
John CollierTags: poets
A poet or philosopher should have no fault to find with his age if it only permits him to do his work undisturbed in his own corner; nor with his fate if the corner granted him allows of his following his vocation without having to think about other people.
Arthur SchopenhauerTags: philosophy funny poets misanthropy schopenhauer art-of-literature
I believe in being a poet in all moments of life. Being a poet means being human. I know some poets whose daily behavior has nothing to do with their poetry. In other words, they are only poets when they write poetry. Then it is finished and they turn into greedy, indulgent, oppressive, shortsighted, miserable, and envious people. Well, I cannot believe their poems
Forugh Farrokhzadno poet can know what his poem is going to be like until he has written it.
W.H. AudenО любви мы знаем немного. Любовь - что груша. Она сладкая и имеет определенную форму. Но попробуйте дать определение формы груши!
© Лютик "Полвека поэзии
Behold yon rough and flinty road
Where youth, now youth no more,
Gropes whining, seeking crumbs of loaves
He cast away of yore.
Tags: experience poetry youth poem poets ageing
Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath,
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud-
Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Tags: poetry philosophy death poem poets mortality pride
I bargained with Life for a penny,
and Life would pay no more,
However I begged at evening
When I counted my scanty store;
Life is a just employer.
He gives you what you ask,
But once you have set the wages,
Why, you must bear the task.
I worked for a menial's hire,
Only to learn, dismayed,
That any wage I had asked of Life,
Life would have willingly paid
Tags: life learning poetry wealth philosophy poem poets ageing wages hire
My sudden, unforeseen capitulation had knocked me backward, and I had nothing to hold on to. My internal weather was eerily calm, as if in a tornado's aftermath, birdsong, sunshine, supersaturated colors, wreckage all around, and myself, dazed and limping.
Kate ChristensenTags: marriage poets divorce kate-christensen the-astral midle-age
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