#poetry

Like poetry, fashion does not state anything. It merely suggests ↗

— Karl Lagerfeld

#chanel #designer #fashion #inspirational #poetry

I'm going to do something bigger and better, bigger and better and bolder, but first, I'm going to do something smaller and worse. ↗

— JonArno Lawson

#poetry #thoughtful #humor

Only in books the flat and final happens, Only in dreams we meet and interlock.... ↗

— Philip Larkin

#dreams

Give a poet a pen ↗

— A. Jarrell Hayes

#author #culture #humor #inspirational #liberal-arts

The image of a wood has appeared often enough in English verse. It has indeed appeared so often that it has gathered a good deal of verse into itself; so that it has become a great forest where, with long leagues of changing green between them, strange episodes of poetry have taken place. Thus in one part there are lovers of a midsummer night, or by day a duke and his followers, and in another men behind branches so that the wood seems moving, and in another a girl separated from her two lordly young brothers, and in another a poet listening to a nightingale but rather dreaming richly of the grand art than there exploring it, and there are other inhabitants, belonging even more closely to the wood, dryads, fairies, an enchanter's rout. The forest itself has different names in different tongues- Westermain, Arden, Birnam, Broceliande; and in places there are separate trees named, such as that on the outskirts against which a young Northern poet saw a spectral wanderer leaning, or, in the unexplored centre of which only rumours reach even poetry, Igdrasil of one myth, or the Trees of Knowledge and Life of another. So that indeed the whole earth seems to become this one enormous forest, and our longest and most stable civilizations are only clearings in the midst of it. ↗

— Charles Williams

#literature #nature #poetry #trees #art

Pater noster Our Father who art in heaven Stay there And we'll stay here on earth Which is sometimes so pretty With its mysteries of New York And its mysteries of Paris At least as good as that of the Trinity With its little canal at Ourcq Its great wall of China Its river at Morlaix Its candy canes With its Pacific Ocean And its two basins in the Tuileries With its good children and bad people With all the wonders of the world Which are here Simply on the earth Offered to everyone Strewn about Wondering at the wonder of themselves And daring not avow it As a naked pretty girl dares not show herself With the world's outrageous misfortunes Which are legion With legionaries With torturers With the masters of this world The masters with their priests their traitors and their troops With the seasons With the years With the pretty girls and with the old bastards With the straw of misery rotting in the steel of cannons. ↗

— Jacques Prévert

#art

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife. Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art: I warm'd both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart. ↗

— Walter Savage Landor

#poetry #art

Poetry and art nourish the soul of the world with the flavor-filled substances of beauty, wisdom and truth. ↗

— Aberjhani

#beauty #famous-poets #life #philosophy #poetry

A world without poetry and art would be too much like one without birds or flowers: bearable but a lot less enjoyable. ↗

— Aberjhani

#blog-quotes #famous-authors #famous-poets #life #philosophy

Perfection seems sterile; it is final, no mystery in it; it's a product of an assembly line. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#assembly-line #dejan-stojanovic #final #literature #literature-quotes