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"If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry."
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"You need a poetic touch from the outer space? Then you need the moonlight!"
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"I love writing poetry because it's pretty. I love writing pretty."
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"Good poetry does not exist merely for the sake of itself, but rather, is a byproduct of yearning and growth; great poetry canonizes that yearning for the growth of others."
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"I can write no stately proemAs a prelude to my lay;From a poet to a poemI would dare to say.For if of these fallen petalsOne to you seem fair,Love will waft it till it settlesOn your hair.And when wind and winter hardenAll the loveless land,It will whisper of the garden,You will understand."
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"Deep down there is a rose in every heart."
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"At seventeen I tried to write poetry confining myself solely to Anglo-Saxon words - don't know if it helped, but it made me more concrete ..."
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"You know the way of the wind in the night-the desolate alleys my soul takes."
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"The mint from your breath, the milk from your breast, the best of your mind, now in its worst state of condition. From the womb to the tomb, as a mild flower, you break your petals upon blossom, and seize death openly. Leaving your fragrance to spin and dance, one last time before being blown away."
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"Now begins to rise in me the familiar rhythm; words that have lain dormant now lift, now toss their crests, and fall and rise, and falls again. I am a poet, yes. Surely I am a great poet."
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"The secret of poetry is never explained - is always new. We have not got farther than mere wonder at the delicacy of the touch, & the eternity it inherits. In every house a child that in mere play utters oracles, & knows not that they are such. 'Tis as easy as breath. 'Tis like this gravity, which holds the Universe together, & none knows what it is."
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"If you were coming in the Fall, I'd brush the Summer by With half a smile and half a spurn, As Housewives do a Fly. If I could see you in a year, I'd wind the months in balls -And put them each in separate Drawers, For fear the numbers fuse -If only Centuries, delayed, I'd count them on my Hand, Subtracting, till my fingers dropped Into Van Diemen's land. If certain, when this life was out, That yours and mine should be, I 'd toss it yonder like a rind, And taste eternity. But, now, uncertain of the length Of this, that is between, It goads me, like the Goblin Bee, That will not state - its sting."
Time
"Water is taught by thirst;Land, by the oceans passed;Transport, by throe;Peace, by its battles told;Love, by memorial mould;Birds, by the snow."
Nature
"A great hope fellYou heard no noiseThe ruin was within."
Hope
"Impossibility, like wineExhilarates the manWho tastes it; PossibilityIs flavoreless."
Possibility
"The career of flowers differs from ours only in inaudibleness. I feel more reverence as I grow for these mute creatures whose suspense or transport may surpass my own."
Nature
"The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination."
Imagination
"Or help one fainting RobinUnto his Nest againI shall not live in vain."
Compassion
"I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come, Nor action new, Except through this extent, The realm of you."
Poetry
"A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege, I think."
Art
"Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought."
Age
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