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#poe

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #poe




No man was ever yet a great poet, without at the same time being a profound philosopher. ↗


— Samuel Taylor Coleridge


#poetry #philosophical

UNIVERS EU voi pleca spre infinitul În care mi-a rămas privitul Și voi veni de nicăieri... Poate mai repede ca ieri. Dar știu că voi găsi mereu... Acel ușor și acel ,,greu" același rău, același bine, În contradicție cu mine... Alți regi și alți martiri mai noi... Unii-mbuibați și alții goi... Și alte măști, alți arlechini... Alți ratați și alți senini. Alte motive puse lumii De vreun proliferant al ciumii. Și alte măști, alți rechini, O, repetiție turbată. Termină-ți ciclu-acesta-odată Și azvârle-mă în UNIVERS De unde-am venit Făr să fi mers... ↗


— Vasile Hauși


#hausi #pandorei #poeme #poezie #sange

My Heart I'm not going to cry all the time nor shall I laugh all the time, I don't prefer one "strain" to another. I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie, not just a sleeper, but also the big, overproduced first-run kind. I want to be at least as alive as the vulgar. And if some aficionado of my mess says "That's not like Frank!," all to the good! I don't wear brown and grey suits all the time, do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera, often. I want my feet to be bare, I want my face to be shaven, and my heart--you can't plan on the heart, but the better part of it, my poetry, is open. ↗


— Frank O'Hara


#poetry #love

To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the music the words make. ↗


— Truman Capote


#music #poetry #writing #music

With a chaste heart With pure eyes I celebrate your beauty Holding the leash of blood So that it might leap out and trace your outline Where you lie down in my Ode As in a land of forests or in surf In aromatic loam, or in sea music Beautiful nude Equally beautiful your feet Arched by primeval tap of wind or sound Your ears, small shells Of the splendid American sea Your breasts of level plentitude Fulfilled by living light Your flying eyelids of wheat Revealing or enclosing The two deep countries of your eyes The line your shoulders have divided into pale regions Loses itself and blends into the compact halves of an apple Continues separating your beauty down into two columns of Burnished gold Fine alabaster To sink into the two grapes of your feet Where your twin symmetrical tree burns again and rises Flowering fire Open chandelier A swelling fruit Over the pact of sea and earth From what materials Agate? Quartz? Wheat? Did your body come together? Swelling like baking bread to signal silvered hills The cleavage of one petal Sweet fruits of a deep velvet Until alone remained Astonished The fine and firm feminine form It is not only light that falls over the world spreading inside your body Yet suffocate itself So much is clarity Taking its leave of you As if you were on fire within The moon lives in the lining of your skin. ↗


— Pablo Neruda


#ode-to-a-beautiful-nude #poetry #romance #beauty

We are unraveling our navels so that we may ingest the sun. We are not afraid of the darkness. We trust that the moon shall guide us. We are determining the future at this very moment. We know that the heart is the philosopher's stone. Our music is our alchemy. ↗


— Saul Williams


#def-poetry #determination #future #music #poetry

The music brought us what it seemed / We had long desired, but in a form / so rarefied there was no emptiness of sensation ↗


— John Ashbery


#the-mythological-poet #music

Poetry is prose bewitched, a music made of visual thoughts, the sound of an idea. ↗


— Mina Loy


#music

The music is a vibration in the brain rather than the ear. ↗


— Amy Clampitt


#music

Author's Prayer If I speak for the dead, I must leave this animal of my body, I must write the same poem over and over for the empty page is a white flag of their surrender. If I speak of them, I must walk on the edge of myself, I must live as a blind man who runs through the rooms without touching the furniture. Yes, I live. I can cross the streets asking "What year is it?" I can dance in my sleep and laugh in front of the mirror. Even sleep is a prayer, Lord, I will praise your madness, and in a language not mine, speak of music that wakes us, music in which we move. For whatever I say is a kind of petition and the darkest days must I praise. ↗


— Ilya Kaminsky


#music






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