#poetic

Humor has justly been regarded as the finest perfection of poetic genius. ↗

— Thomas Carlyle

#finest #genius #humor #justly #perfection

Eccentric doesn't bother me. 'Eccentric' being a poetic interpretation of a mathematical term meaning something that doesn't follow the lines - that's okay. ↗

— Crispin Glover

#bother #eccentric #follow #interpretation #lines

You are ugly when you love her, you are beautiful and fresh, vital and free, modern and poetic when you don't... you are more beautiful as an orphan than as your mother's son. ↗

— Witold Gombrowicz

#free #fresh #her #love #modern

It's very hard to say I'm surrealist. It's like saying I'm poetic. It's not something you want necessarily to be aware of. ↗

— Michel Gondry

#hard #i #like #necessarily #poetic

I have never considered myself a poet. I have no interest in poetic artistry. ↗

— Muhammad Iqbal

#considered #i #interest #myself #never

You saw me before I saw you. In the airport, that day in August, you had that look in your eyes, as though you wanted something from me, as though you’d wanted it for a long time. No one had ever looked at me like that before, with that kind of intensity. It unsettled me, surprised me, I guess. Those blue, blue eyes, icy blue, looking back at me as if I could warm them up. They’re pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful, too. ↗

— Lucy Christopher

#dark #poetic-fiction #beauty

Nothing is poetical if plain daylight is not poetical; and no monster should amaze us if the normal man does not amaze. ↗

— Gilbert K. Chesterton

#daylight #does #man #monster #normal

Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them. ↗

— John Drinkwater

#distinct #drama #energy #epic #experiences

Emotion is the surest arbiter of a poetic choice, and it is the priest of all supreme unions in the mind. ↗

— Max Eastman

#choice #emotion #mind #poetic #priest

The fire you rubbed left its brand on the most vulnerable, most vicious and tender point of my body. Now I have to pay for your rasping the red rash too strongly, too soon, as charred wood has to pay for burning. When I remain without your caresses, I lose all control of my nerves, nothing exists any more than the ecstasy of friction, the abiding effect of your sting, of your delicious poison. ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#family