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"Lastly, his tomb shall list and founder in the troughs of grass. And none shall speak his name."
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"You need a poetic touch from the outer space? Then you need the moonlight!"
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Personal Development

"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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"The good poet sticks to his real loves, those within the realm of possibility. He never tries to hold hands with God or the human race."
God


"Lastly, his tomb shall list and founder in the troughs of grass. And none shall speak his name."
Poetry


"Already old, the question Who shall die? Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?"
Old


"To make the child in your own image is a capital crime, for your image is not worth repeating. The child knows this and you know it. Consequently you hate each other."
Crime


"Laughter and grief join hands. Always the heart Clumps in the breast with heavy stride; The face grows lined and wrinkled like a chart, The eyes bloodshot with tears and tide. Let the wind blow, for many a man shall die."
Heart


"My soul is now her day, my day her night, So I lie down, and so I rise."
Lie


"The doctor punched my vein, the captain called me Cain, upon my belly sat the sow of fear."
Fear


"But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep."
Love


"The body, what is it, Father, but a sign To love the force that grows us, to give back What in Thy palm is senselessness and mud?"
Love


"Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique."
Experience
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